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Page 69 






OK, 

1. 1 F E ON THE P R A I R T E . 



“I'll sarve you out, you iufonial savage.”- Page. 122. 


P H 1 1. A D K L P II I A : 

T. H. JM’/rKusoN jpiiothp:us 



1 1 


WESTERN SCENES; 

OR, 

LIFE Oil THE PRAIEIE. 

A SERIES OP 

HUMOROUS SKETCHES 

DESCRIPTIVE OP 

|«nh«ts sttJr Clarstttr in Millt Mist. 

\ 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED 

OTHER MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

BYy^SOLITAIRE,”- 

(JOHN S. ROBB, OF ST. LOUIS,' MO.) 

AUTHOR OP “swallowing OYSTERS ALIVE.” 



Dan ElTcTiom. — I’ve seen more/tt» in these your diggins than would fill a look 
Solitaire . — Can I persuade you, Dan, to relate those scenes to me ? 

Dan. — Well, hoss, I won’t do anythin’ else I 


Pljilabclpljia: ^ 

T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS, 

806 CHESTNUT STREET. 

ir 





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the jear 1858, by 
T. B. PETERSON, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


DEDICATION. 


To Col. Charles Keemle. 


Permit me, my friend, to dedicate to you these pages^ 
the first production of my pen in the field of western 


literature, and allow me to say, that your own graphic 


relations of far-west scenes, witnessed when this now 




giant territory was in its infancy, has contributed much 
to illustrate for me the striking features of western cha- 
racter. You may be set down as one, who has not 
only been a dweller in the wilds since its primitive days, 
but an observer of its progress in every stage, from the 
semi-civilised state until the refinement of polished life 
has usurped the wilderness. Through this period of 
transition you have stood unchanged, and that generous 
and noble nature, which induced the Indian chieftain, 
in by-gone days, to style you as the Gray Eagle” of 
the forest, c^ls forth this humble tribute of regard from 
your friend. 


John S. Robb. 



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CONTENTS. 


Tur. 55 Wi^NTERlNGS OF A TYPO . PAGE 11 

NOT A DROP MORE, MAJOR, UNLESS Ix’s SWEETEN’d’^ 56 

N ttXTLE BOXXOM BALL ; i ....... 59 

Or, Betsy Jones* tumble in the mush pan, 

A CAX SXORY, 6l 

Which must not be cur-tailed. 

A SPIRIXUAL SISXER, 67 

Her encounter with a doubtful Smith. 

Hoss allen’s apology; .,.►.70 

Or, the Candidate* s J^ight in a Mosquito Swamp. 

naxubal acxing ; 8Ji» 

Dan Marble's First .Appearance at Grand River. 

A CANAL ADVENXURE 67 

XHE SXANDING CANDIDAXE ; 91 

His Excuse for being a Bachelor. 

AN ILMIGRANX’S PERILS ; 101 

Or, a Flying Ticket on the Mississippi. 

FUN WIXH A “ BAR 104 

jS Might Adventure on the Missouri 

XELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS ; 112 

A Might's Adventure in the American Bottom. 

THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT; 117 

Or, Dick Kelsy's Signature to his Land Claim. 

YALLER PLEDGES ; 132 

Or, the Fight about Sally Spillman. 


f 


VI 


CONTENTS 


GEORGE MUND AY, PAGE 139 

The Hatless Prophet, 

COURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW 142 

THE SECOND ADVENT J 148 

Tovi Bengali the Engineer, and Millerism. 

SETTLEMENT FUN J 156 

Or, Bill Sapper’s Letter to his Cousin. 

“doing” a landlord, 161 

A Story of Shape and Talent. 

WHO IS SIR GEORGE SIMPSON ? 166 

An extraordinary circumstance about him. 

LETTERS FROM A BABY, 168 

By a Forward Child, 

BETH tinder’s FIRST COURTSHIP; 177 

How his flame was quenched. 

THE DEATH STRUGGLE ; 180 

Or, the way Smith did up Jonta. 

“WHO ARE THEYI”.....,.*,^ 183 

A question of nUal import. 


PREFACE. 


In offering the following sketches to the public, I feel 
somewhat like the hoosier candidate described his sen- 
sations, when he first essayed to deliver a stump speech : 
“ I felt,” said he, “ that ef I could ony git the beginnin’ 
out — ef I could ony say ‘ fellar citizens P that arter that 
it ’ud go jest as easy as corn shuckin’ !” So with your 
humble servant, if this my first effort at book making 
should meet with favor, I feel that a second attempt 
would be a pleasing task. To all adventurers in the 
field of literature the slightest encouragement is a shower 
of success — in my own case a smile upon my effort will 
swell in my estimation to a downright <^sniggerP’ The 
commendation which was bestowed upon the sketch of 
« Swallowing Oysters Alive,” was some evidence that it 
tickled the public taste, and, of course, its wide approval 
tickled the fancy of the author ; so if this collection be 
an infliction upon the reading public’s taste, they have 
themselves to blame — they offered the temptation. 

It is unnecessary for me to apologise for their style^ 
for to pretend a capability to furnish any better, I donH 
— and their finish will be excused when I state, they 
are the productions of the few short hours outside of 
eight in the morning and ten at night, the time between 
being occupied by arduous duties which almost forbid 
thought, save of themselves. 


vni 


PREFACE. 


The west abounds with incident and humor, and the 
observer must lack an eye for the comic who can look 
upon the panorama of western life without being tempted 
to laugh. It would indeed seem that the nearer sun- 
down, the more original the character and odd the ex- 
pression, as if the sun, with his departing beams, had 
shed a new feature upon the back-woods inhabitants. 
This oddity and originality has often attracted my at- 
tention and contributed to my amusement, and I have 
wondered why the finished and graphic writers of our 
country so seldom sought material from this inviting 
field. The idea of ever attempting to develope any 
portion of this mine of incident and character, with my 
feeble pen, has but recently been flattered into exist- 
ence, and if my hasty efforts but aid to awaken attention 
and attract skilful pens to this original and striking field 
of literature, my highest ambition is attained. The 
amusing delineations of Thorpe, Hooper, Field, Sol 
Smith, and others, who have with abler pens developed 
these incidents of western life, and the avidity with 
which their sketches have been read, give assurance 
that the rivers and valleys of this western land will 
no longer be neglected. That it here abounds as 
plentiful as the minerals within its bosom, there is no 
question, for every step of the pioneer’s progress has 
been marked with incidents, humorous and thrilling, 
which wait but the wizard spell of a bright mind and 
able pen to call them from misty tradition, and clothe 
them with speaking life. 

It is true there are dark streaks in w’estern life, as well 
as light ones, as w^here in human society exists the one 
without the other ; but, in their relation, the future his- 


PREFACE. 


IX 


torian of the wilds should be careful to distinguish be- 
tween the actual settler and the border harpy. The acts 
of this latter class have often thrilled the refined mind 
with horror, and brought condemnation upon the pio- 
neer, while a wide distinction exists between the two 
characters. The harpy is generally some worthless and 
criminal character, who, having to flee from more popu- 
lous districts, seeks refuge at the outskirts of civilization, 
and there preys alike upon the red man and unsuspect- 
ing settler. There have been instances where, after a 
long career of depredation, these offenders have aroused 
the vengeance of the back- woods settler, when his pun- 
ishment became as sweeping as his hospitality had before 
been w’-arm and unsuspecting. In general, however, 
the western squatter is a free and jovial character, in- 
clined to mirth rather than evil, and when he encounters 
his fellow man at a barbecue, election, log-rolling, or 
frolic, he is more disposed to join in a feeling of hilarity 
on the occasion, than to participate in wrong or out- 
rage. An encounter with the hostile red skins, or the 
wild animals of the forest is to him pleasurable excite- 
ment, and his fireside or camp-fire is rich with story of 
perilous adventure, and which seems onlytworthy of his 
remembrance, when fearfully hazardous in incident. 

Appended to these Western Sketches will be found 
several of a satirical and humorous character, which 
have met with some favor ; though of a local character, 
they may contribute to the amusement of the reader, and 
if so, the object for which they were written has been 
attained. 

In conclusion, allow me to add, that the within pages 
are written as much for the reader’s amusement as the 


X 


PREFACE. 


illustration of odd incidents and character, and if they 
fail in this, they fail altogether ; — it is certain I have 
tried to be funny, and not to succeed in such an effort 
is the most hopeless of all literary failures. I shall leave 
the decision of this, to me momentous, question, to the 
indulgence of the public, and hold myself ready to 
back out” if they decree it, or attempt a better effort 
under their approving smile. 

A word to the critics : — Gentlemen, I have a high 
respect for you, and some little fear, and I, therefore, 
beg of you to touch me lightly — if you touch me at all ; 
or, in the language of the Irish pupil, when about to 
receive a thrashing from his tutor; — <<If you can’t be 
aisy, be as aisy as you can /” 


The Author. 


STREAKS OF SOUATTER LIFE, 

AND 

FAR-WEST SCENES. 

THE VESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE WAY HE WAS ^BROUGHT UP.” 

John Earl, the subject of our story, was a true and 
veritable specimen of the genus Jour Printer^ — intelli- 
gent, reckless, witty, improvident, competent, and un- 
steady, — floating on the great sea of life, regardless of 
either its winds or tides, — but little troubled about the 
present, and perfectly indifferent as to the future. John 
was the son of a Philadelphia printer, who died soon 
after his marriage, and the grief and destitution of our 
hero’s mother so preyed upon her slender frame, that in 
giving birth to him she sunk under her sufferings — the 
wail of her offspring in this world was^ the knell which 
signalled her departure to another. That “ the poor 
aids the poor,” was a saying verified in John’s case, 
for a poor shoemaker in the house adjoining his home 
took charge of the bereaved infant, and sheltered it 
beneath his humble roof. The worthy son of Crispin 
had none of his own to trouble him, and his wife and 
himself, as their little charge budded into prattling 

11 


12 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

childhood, grew daily more fond of him, until our herv 
held at least his third of interest in the household. A\ 
his own request he was permitted to learn the same 
business his father had been bred to, and with many in- 
junctions, and a good suit of clothes, he was consigned at 
a proper age to a master printer. Soon after his transfer 
to his new home, his adopted parents bade himfarewell. 
The old shoemaker had become infected with the 
western fever for emigration, and after long and re- 
peated consultations with his wife, had concluded to 
depart to the land of rapid fortunes and unbounded 
enterprise. The parting was affectionate, and after 
many fond wishes for each other’s happiness, our hero 
was left to the mercies of the Art preservative.” We 
need not say that he grew wise in its mysteries, we will 
assume it as a matter of course. John was, or rather 
grew to be of a happy disposition, and viewed life as 
something resembling Pat’s pig^ a compound of alter- 
nate streaks of fat and lean^ and whenever fortune 
looked through her blue spectacles upon his progress, 
he always set it down as his streak of lean, and grew 
happy amid his distresses, under the firm belief that 
his alternate slice of fat was next in order. He was a 
philosopher in the true sense of the word, for he let no 
occurrence of life rumple the couch of his repose — if 
he didn’t like his quarters he took up his store of earthly 
wealth upon the end of a stick, and travelled. At the 
period of which we write, John had tasted four or five 
years of the responsibility of manhood, and had, from 
the day of his freedom, been an occasional visiter to all 
♦he Atlantic cities ; he had now grown tired of his old 
tramping ground, and turned his eye westward. Who 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 13 

knows, thought John, but I may find a Mount Arrarat 
in the new land whereon to rest my ark! “ The west, 
aye,” thought John, “that mighty corn field — that re- 
gion of pork and plenty — land of the migrating sucker — 
haven of hope, and country of adventure, I stretch out 
my arms towards thee, take me up like a mother, and 
be kind to your new child.” 

Gathering up his shirt No, 2, and overcoat No; 1, 
into a handkerchief valise, and wending his way to a 
Baltimore steamer, he proceeded on board, deposited 
his bundle, and shook the dust of the city from his feet. 
From the deck of the steamer he looked out upon the 
mart of trade, covered with its busy hundreds, who were 
rushing to and fro, and running in and out of the great 
store-houses, like swarms of bees around their hives. 

“ Poor fellows,” soliloquized John, “ how soon old 
time will knock them over, and distribute all the honey 
they are toiling for among a new generation.” 

A ringing of the steamer’s bell disturbed his musings, 
and all became, for a few minutes, bustle and confusion 
— the engine moved, and the paddles answered its clank 
wdth a splash, a moment more and they were moving in 
the stream, and wending their way past the rows of 
shipping. As the smoke of the city faded from their 
view, John turned about to look upon his fellow pas- 
sengers; some looked pleased, as if the trip was one 
of pleasure ; others sad, as if departing from joys ; 
whilst a portion, discontented with what they had left, 
appeared determined to dislike what they were jour- 
neying to, and muttered their displeasure audibly. 
Standing alone, leaning over the rail, was a fine look- 
ing elderly gentleman, whose countenance wore an air 


14 . THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

of quiet content and goodness — it was, indeed, one of 
those inviting countenances that we sometimes see pos- 
sessed by honorable old age, which tells of wise thought 
and kindly sympathy, instead of a callous, heart and 
suspicious mind, and our hero selected its owner for a 
travelling acquaintance. Approaching him, and leaning 
over a rail by his side, he remarked, 

<< We are moving through the water, sir, with light- 
ning speed.” 

This assertion being most palpable and manifest, the 
old gent remarked in turn that they were moving with 
rapidity. Having fully agreed upon this point, John 
ventured further to enquire, If it had ever occurred to 
his mind that steamboats were a great invention, any 
how?” The old gentleman acknowledged he had 
been forcibly struck with the fact.” Now, these passes 
of conversation may appear to the reader as very trivial 
and commonplace, but let us assure him they led to 
important results — they broke the ice which lay betw^een 
two bodies, and let their souls float into contact. John 
having, as it were, got hold of the cover of non-inter- 
course, which most travellers wear, just unfolded it at 
each corner, and by his wit, intelligence, and reckless 
gaiety, folded himself up next the old man’s heart, and 
tucked the corners of the robe under him. The old 
man soon became delighted with our hero, and they be- 
came inseparable compagnons du voyage, 

A small bell was rung, and immediately the clerk 
commenced taking up tickets. Here was an eventful 
period for John — he had not troubled himself with the 
necessary receipt for passage, for one very good reason 
—he had none of the needful to purchase it with ; like 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 15 

all philosophers he had great faith in luck, and now re- 
signed himself to her care. 

I’ll take your ticket, sir,” said the clerk. 

I wish you would,” said John, ‘‘ if you see it any 
where about me.” 

The clerk took a stare at our hero, and then re- 
marked, I have no time to jest, sir.” 

“ Nor I any inclination ;” added John, «« the fact is, 
my friend. I’ve got no ticket, and as uncle Sam is my 
only existing relation, and as you have a contract with 
him, suppose you book me as one of his malesJ*^ 

«« I say I have no time for jesting, sir,” reiterated the 
clerk, in anangry tone,‘< so please to hand me your ticket.” 

‘‘Well, then,” continued John, “ I’ll have to let you 
into my secret, I see, — I’m an attache of the press, on 
my road to Washington ; — now, I suppose, its all right. 
You are aware if I am delayed. Gales and Seaton wdll 
be very angry, and Blair and Rives get in a pucker.” 

The clerk was here getting into a wrathy state, when 
John’s old friend reached the clerk the amount of his 
passage, and he passed on. John objected, but the old 
man insisted upon* lending it to him, and the matter of 
fare being settled they sped onward smoothly as before. 
“ Here’s a streak of thought John, “for I have 

accidentally fell in with a travelling angel,” and as some 
return for his generosity, he set about making himself 
particularly agreeable to his old companion. In the 
course of their conversation the old gent learned John’s 
history, and that he was now on his way to Washington 
in search of business, to raise money enough to carry 
him w^est. His companion informed John that he was 
a western man, and invited him to bear him company to 


16 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

his home in Cleveland, Ohio ; but our hero preferred 
the Mississippi country. He agreed, however, if he 
should fail in gaining business in Washington, to ac- 
company him to Wheeling, provided he would increase 
the debt already incurred, and trust to the goddess, luck, 
for payment. After being assured that his company 
was considered worth double the sum, the matter was 
set at rest, and they entered Washington together. 

The old man had business in the city, and proposed 
to our hero, that while he was transacting it, he should 
take a stroll through the offices and see what chance 
there was for employment, and afterwards meet him at 
the Capitol. They separated, and when they again met, 
according to appointment, our typo ‘‘ reported no pro- 
gress,” so it was instantly agreed they should depart for 
Wheeling. As they gazed from the “ spectator V gal- 
lery,” John whispered to his companion : 

‘‘ I know the mass of those patriots below, and rightly 
appreciate them, for I have been behind the curtain — 
have helped some of them to make good English of their 
speeches to Bunkum, — have seen their tricks to get of- 
fice, and their tricks to keep them, — ^ave seen the vxiy 
the cat jumps, and seen it jump too ; in short. I’m up 
to the whole ‘ wool pulling’ system, and I advise them 
to go it while they can, for the people may one day find 
them out, and then their spreading here will end in a 
sprawl at home.” 

He had gradually grown warm in his soliloquy, until 
his voice became audible, when the speaker struck his 
hammer, the sergeant- at- arms started for the gallery, 
and John and his old friend started for the stairs. 

On the next morning the two departed w’est, leaving 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 17 

the seat of government and its official inhabitants, for 
the broad land of promise which lay beyond. 

“ What think you of the capital enquired the old 
gentleman, as they journeyed onward. 

“The worst,” answered our hero, and assuming a 
Timon of Athens attitude, he added, “ I have turned 
my back upon it in disgust. It is a theatre of the 
worst passions in our nature — chicanery lurks within 
the cabinet, distrust and envy without, while fawning 
sycophancy environs it around and about. To sum it up, 
it is a little of government — a great deal of ‘bunkum,’ 
sprinkled with a high seasoning of political juggling, 
the whole of which has but one end and aim — the spoils 
of Uncle Sam.” 

“Bravo !” exclaimed his old friend, “you will have 
to get elected from some of the Western states, and set 
about cleaning the Augean stable.” 

“ Not I,” answered John. “ It’s too dirty a job, and 
besides, the sovereign people claim it as their peculiar 
privilege, let them smell it out for themselves.” 

Discussing thus, things^ political, they jogged on to 
their place of parting, without incident worthy of noting 
by the way. John still held to his desire of visiting the 
Mississippi country, and his old friend insisted on pay- 
ing his expenses to Cincinnati, our hero easily yielded 
to his proposition, with the understanding that it was to 
be paid when they again met. 

“ I may one day see you in Cleveland,” said John, 
“ with fortune buckled on my back, and if it should be 
there, ‘ whether I will or no,’ be assured I shall not 
cut my old friends.” 

The old man laughed at the careless abandon of 
3 


18 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

his young friend, insisted upon his calling upon him in 
Cleveland when he had become tired of strolling, and 
they parted with warm expressions of regard. Our hero 
having found a boat which drew so little w^ater, that it 
would, &s the captain said, run up a tree with a drop 
of the element upon it,’’ he embarked on board, and 
stretching his form out in one of the state-room berths, 
gave liberty to his thoughts, and wandered back in 
memory to his childhood. Vainly did his memory 
search for some kindred face to dwell upon, the only 
semblance to such was the old shoemaker and his wife ; 
and next to them he placed his late companion, — for 
he and his adopted parents were the only beings in his 
recollection who had ever bestowed upon him disinte- 
rested, kindly regard. He felt that he had floated like 
a moat in the sunbeam, whithersoever the breeze listed, 
having no home where he might nestle in health, or lie 
down in when seized by affliction — no port opened its 
arms to his bark, nor had it any destination — because it 
had no papers ! but floated upon the broad wave of life 
the sport of fortune — and a hard fortune at that. As 
these thoughts stole over his heart, it became sad, and 
for the first time in years its fountains filled up to over- 
flowing, and poured its burning w^aters over his cheeks. 
The future was a matter of such uncertainty, that he 
did not care to think upon it, nor at that moment did 
he care what it might bring forth— if good, well ; if 
evil, it would be but a change from one feature of hard 
fortune to another. In due course of time the queen 
city of the west appeared in the distance, and his heart 
revived as he gazed upon her young greatness — hope 
aw'oke from her short slumber to urge him forward to 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 


19 


greater efforts. On landing he sought out a printing 
establishment, and at his first application fortune favored 
him — a streak of fat was waiting for his arrival in the 
pork city, so throwing off his coat, he was soon clicking 
the type to the tune of better days ” and here we 
shall leave him until our next chapter. 


CHAPTER II. 

AN ADVENTURE AMONG THE OFFICIALS. 

Our hero passed about two months in the queen city, 
when the desire to move again attacked him, and with 
the impulse he shaped his way for the Hoosier state, 
alone, and on foot. He was in that peculiar state of 
mind, and pocket, which calls forth all the coolness and 
wisdom of the philosopher, and to strengthen him on 
his journey he called up to mind all those illustrious 
examples of his craft, who had entered strange towns 
barefooted, and after rose to eminence and distinctions; 
several ^ whom now figured conspicuously upon the 
stage of public action. Trudging along thus, now stop- 
ping by the roadside to rest and muse, again plodding 
onward ; now weary and desponding, again cheered by 
the carolling of the wood songsters, he would flourish 
his stafl' with sovereign contempt for care, whistle — 
“ While you are young, you should be gay,” and fix- 
ing his hat tighter upon his brow step out again with a 
republican stride. Earth had on her gayest livery, and 
the rich foliage of the western forests fluttered in a 
gentle breeze ; which also fanned the brow of the soli- 


20 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

tary wanderer, as he toiled up a rising hill in his path- 
way. On reaching the brow of this small eminence he 
looked down upon a flourishing town which lay in the 
valley below him, and his spirits rose as he gazed upon 
the national flag, invitingly fluttering from the top of a 
snug-looking hotel. 

“ Huzza for the old striped bunting!” shouted John, 
‘Uhere is luck wherever it waves supreme, and if I 
don’t come across a streak of fat soon, to recompense 
me for the long lean one I have been enjoying, then 
‘ republics are ungrateful,’ and I shall join the aristo- 
cracy and declaim against them.” 

The village upon which John was gazing was at 
that particular period the scene of unusual commotion, 
anxious expectation, and great excitement — every inha- 
bitant appeared on tiptoe about something. The porch 
of the hotel was occupied by a group of leading citizens 
of the town, among whom was the postmaster, the 
squire, the parson, a distinguished physician, a member 
of the bar, and sundry smaller dignitaries attached to 
the official stations of the county-seat. The black- 
smith would every now and then quit his fqfge, step 
out of his shop, and wiping the sweat from his brow 
take a long and searching look up the road, and then 
returning, pound away at the heated iron with pow- 
erful energy. The popular shoemaker was leaning 
out of his window looking earnestly in the same di- 
rection as his neighbor — the girls w^ere peeping through 
their windows in a state of expectancy, and the young 
bucks of the town, dressed in their best, were flit- 
ting about in sight of the fair inhabitants, or cluster- 
ing in groups directly opposite the abode of certain 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 21 

village beauties, while the more juvenile portion of the 
community were throwing up dust in the street, and 
huzzaing in a most animated and enthusiastic manner — 
in short, the town was upon the eve of a great occa- 
sion. The member of congress, from that district, was 
expected to partake of a public dinner, on that day, at 
the principal hotel of the town of M., in the state of 
Indiana, and his constituents had prepared to give him 
a hearty reception on his return home, for the able 
manner in which he had defended their interests. He 
was expected every moment, and of course, the place 
was big with anticipation. 

John wended his way unnoticed down the street, but 
observing everything — his keen eye discovered not only 
matter of interest in the commotion, but high promise — 
there was evidently something «« out,” for the throbbing 
town, the fluttering banner, and the anxious groups 
betrayed it. Entering the hotel where the principal 
citizens were assembled, John mingled with the throng 
in the bar room, and listened to learn the cause of the 
gathering ; how did his heart swell within him (for it 
had plenty of room) when he heard that a public dinner 
was on the tapis, a real bona fide dinner, of fish, flesh, 
and fowl, with an abundance of good liquor. John 
determined to search out the location of that town upon 
the map, and mark it down in his remembrance as pos- 
sessing a highly civilized community. The landlord’s 
son, an urchin of about six years of age, was every now 
and then running into the hall, and then out into the 
street, huzzaing at every termination of his race, run- 
ning against every body, and putting on all sorts of 
wild antics — he appeared to have ‘‘cut” his comrades in 


22 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OE A TYPO. 

the street, and was going the enthusiastic on his own 
hook, as if fully impressed with the honors descending 
upon his father’s house— him our hero fixed upon to 
learn particulars, and seizing him as he entered the hall, 
enquired who was coming to eat the dinner that day. 

Hey, why, don’t you know ? — I guess you’re a fellar 
of the other party; — it’s the Governor that’s a cornin’,” 
and off dashed the young publican. 

An alarm now drew the crowd in the bar room out 
to the porch, barkeeper and all, and a citizen having 
left his glass untasted upon the counter, while he went 
to see the matter of interest outside, John just took the 
liberty of tasting the contents, by way of a priming to 
nerve him for future contingencies, and, after, quietly 
strolled to the rear of the house, where discovering a 
darkey blacking boots, he stuck up his dust-covered ex- 
tremities, and authoritatively ordered him to brush them 
up ; the darkey obeyed, and a wash after, at the pump, 
brought out John’s genius bright as a new dollar” — 
to use his own expression, he was ‘‘a full case and 
pnnted copyV^ While he was arranging his cravat in 
the sitting room, a shout rent the air w^hich made the 
glass before him rattle. Again ! again ! huzza ! and 
dashing down to the hotel came a barouche containing 
the guest, with the judge of the district, a member of 
legislature, and the county clerk. Huzza ! shouted 
the village — huzza! shouted our hero, — hang! went 
a small swivel at the upper end of the town — white 
waved the ladies’ handkerchiefs, and high swelled the 
heart of a nation’s statesman. At that exciting moment 
the Indiana representative loomed upon the public eye al- 
most majestic — Clay w^as no-where, Polk wasn’t thought 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 23 

of, Webster was but a patching, and Van Buren was 
sm-all potatoes — the only comparisons to the returned 
representative, were Washington and old Hickory. 

The signal was now given, and in poured the sub- 
scribers to the dinner, with their guest, and in poured 
John “on his own hook.’’ The dining room shook 
with applause as the member took his seat. The judge 
presided upon the occasion, and after a blessing by the 
parson, they set to at the viands. We need not enter 
into particulars as to how the eatables looked or how 
they were eaten, suffice it they were choice and plentiful, 
and that the company showed an appreciatian of their 
worth by clearing the table ! The host — -on this occasion 
the happy host — stood behind the member’s chair with 
a napkin, as if waiting for the great man to get through, 
so he might wipe his mouth and hands for him. The 
enthusiasm, and the liquor, had set the host’s face in a 
glow ; he looked as if he felt the greatness of the occa- 
sion, and he said he didn’t care, if they devoured every 
thing in his house — he was repaid by the honor, indeed, 
he didn’t know that he had anything more to live for 
after that day, it was the crowning period of his career. 
John, happy John! was actually devastating everything 
within his reach — he hadn’t had such a chance for days, 
aye, weeks, and like Dugald Dalgetty, he not only made 
the most of the present, but carefully laid up a small 
provision for the future. He laughed at all jests within 
hearing, and scattered his own with unusual brilliancy. 

The period had now arrived for the toasts and 
speeches, the feast of reason and the flow of liquor. 
After the regulars were drank, the county clerk gained 
the floor and oflfering afew striking and pertinent remarks, 


24 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

wherein he dwelt upon how the nation, and Indiana in 
particular, had been rescued by their representative, he 
proposed the following: 

“ Our representative, Charles Stumper, Esq., a pure 
patriot of Indiana, may a nation’s gratitude yet make 
him a nation’s head.” 

Amid the loud plaudits which followed, Charles 
Stumper, Esq., bowed his head as if that head was 
already a national crowning piece, and swallowing a 
spoonfull of cold water, he arose from his seat with a 
dignity befitting his august station. We have not room 
here to give his speech in detail — it was, of course, 
great — it couldn’t be anything else! When he finished 
by saying that, ‘‘ hereafter, body, bones, blood and all 
w^ere devoted to their service,” a shout went up that 
shook the town of M. like a small earthquake. Before 
he took his seat he offered the following compliment : 

“The town of M., while its citizens have an exist- 
ence, the country is safe !” 

By a loud shout the citizens of M. proclaimed that 
they would save the country. During these enthusiastic 
proceedings our hero, by his urbanity, wit, sentiment, 
and good humor, had won a host of friends around him, 
and considerable curiosity was manifested to know who 
he was, but no one seemed able to give a satisfactory 
reply. Some said, he came wdth the congressman, and 
was his particular friend ; others went so far as to in- 
timate that he was another congressman in disguise — 
indeed, it was whispered that he was a senator incog! 

“ Hold on, fellars,” said one of the citizens, “jest 
hold your bosses, boys — he’ll come out directly; ther’s 
RUthin’ more in that fellar than’s on the outside !” 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 


25 


All appeared to agree to this sage opinion, and held 
their “ bosses” accordingly. At length a pause occur- 
ing, as agreed upon by the editor of the county paper, 
the principal lawyer of the town toasted “ The Press, 
the guardian of republican liberty.” This toast was 
oilered to afford the county editor a chance to deliver 
a speech, which he had prepared for the occasion, but 
before he could clear his throat and get upon his legs, 
John had gained the floor, and in a clear tone called 
the attention of the table. Here was a subject upon 
which John w'as at home — he knew the press “ like a 
book,” and with easy manner and consummate assurance, 
opened upon the great subject of its power. As he pro- 
ceeded, all eyes dilated!— he pictured its progress from 
its earliest advent — its days of weakness, until its present 
W’ide-spread influence and power ; he grew’- eloquent, 
and at length wound up with the following flourish : 

To the press, gentlemen, we owe all the astonishing 
achievements of modern times — they are the fruits of 
its powTr. It was the press which in an iron age un- 
shackled the mind of man and gave free scope to his 
intellect, — taught him to soar over the elemental fields 
w hich gird him round about, and search into the sources 
of his own being, the causes which produced the great 
harmony in universal nature, and how^ to draw^ from 
those causes effects which would promote his happiness 
— sent him forth upon the great field of discovery, and 
spreading his achievements before the world, drew forth 
the might of mind to his aid, and now having led him 
to subdue the very lightning to his will, is by its aid 
scattering intelligence broadcast through the earth. It 
is not merely the guardian of Liberty — it is its creator ’ 


26 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

As the sun is to the solar system, so is the press to 
human society ; eclipse either, and man is left in a n4ght 
of darkness more dreadful than annihilation 

Applauses long and loud greeted his closing words; 
even the ladies, looking through the windows of the 
hotel from the porch which surrounded it, joined in 
the tokens of satisfaction, and now more eagerly than 
ever the question was propounded — who is he ?” No 
one knew, but all were high in his praise, and honors 
were showered so thick upon him that he hardly knew 
what he was about — every body wanted to drink with 
him, and he drank with every body. Order was called 
for his toast, and he gave — 

“ The ladies of M . — If heaven should blot out the 
stars, we will not discover the loss while surrounded by 
their bright eyes.” 

The huzzas became so deafening, the glory was so 
unexpected, and the liquor was so pungent, that John 
lost his compass, and began to beat about wild. Some 
one said he would make a first rate stump speaker, and 
to prove his capability he commenced a political speech, 
— sad mishap ! — sad, because he forgot which side he 
should be on ! and commenced a most scathing tirade 
against the very party he was feasting with. He had so 
won upon their good opinion that they listened patiently 
for awhile, but patience soon melted away, and turn 
him out,” was shouted from all sides of the table — the 
editor of the county paper was most violent for thrusting 
him out, for John had cut him out of his speech on the 
press. 

«« Turn him out !” shouted the editor, “ he’s a base 
spy in the camp.’ 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 27 

John perceived in a moment his fatal error, and felt 
happy that it did not occur until dinner was over — he felt 
that he had made an impression^ and was proud that it 
was through no compromise of principle he had tasted 
of their hospitality, and show'ed them he was an oppo- 
nent still ; all that remained now, was to make a dignified 
retreat, and raising, with some difficulty, erect, he said : 

“ Gentlemen, when I entered, (hic)-tered this as- 
sembly, I thought I was among brethren, but I, (hie) I 
find I was deceived, and that I have been somewhat 
contaminated through error, so, (hie) so with your per- 
mission ni withdraw and repent. I will no long-(hic) 
longer be one of you, but go forth to breathe a freer 
air.” 

At this moment he raised his hat to place it on his 
head, with a flourish, when out dropped the half of a 
chicken^ and two doughnuts, which he had stowed away 
for a lunch. Their falling just at that particular moment 
bothered him, and to leave them there bothered him 
worse, but to pick them up \vas too humiliating — he 
scorned the action ; since they would fall, wffiy there 
let them lie, he would none of them. 

«« Old fellar,” said a hoosier citizen, you’d better 
pick up your chicken fixens afore you go.” 

“Never!” shouted John, indignantly, “I should 
des-(hic) despise myself if I carried off the spoils of 
the enemy — you and your fragments may go to the 
d 1!” 

A yell followed his retreat, which would have shaken 
the nerves of a Coriolanus, but they steadied our hero’s, 
and calm and composed he strode through the door lead 
ing from the dining room. The county editor seized the 


28 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

chicken and doughnuts, and hurled them after kim, 
when John coolly closed the door, picked up the in- 
dignities, put them in his hat, and departed. Taking 
the road which led from the town, he turned his back 
. upon the scene of the late festivities. As he again 
plodded onward he might be heard ejaculating — ‘‘Well, 
wasn't that a streak of fat! What a dinner! Fit for the 
gods, as Pm a gentleman ! Rather funny at the winding 
up, but the commencement and the continuation was 
conducted with statesmanlike skill, and after all, the 
winding up was but an agreeable little interlude.” 

As John crept into a barn that night, some few miles 
from the town of M., and stretched himself upon the 
straw to sleep off the glories of the day, he quietly 
murmured to himself — “Well, here goes for another 
streak of lean 

CHAPTER III. 

John’s editorial career. 

In our hero’s peregrinations he wandered into the 
Sucker state, the country of vast projected rail roads, 
good corndodger, splendid banking houses, and poor 
currency, and during his progress therein he earned and 
hoarded about one hundred and fifty bona fide dollars. 
With this store of wealth jingling in his pockets, he en- 
tered the town of B ; he did not come now as the 

needy adventurer, but as one holding one hundred and 
fifty considerations entitling him to respect. The world 
had taken a wider spread to his eye, and assumed new 
features, or rather he began to see with a clearer vision, 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 29 

for the common order of society appeared now, as 
plain as daylight, to have most villainous faces, and the 
respectability of wealth was as apparent as moonshine — 
he could now easily assign a reason for the deference 
paid to high station — in short, he had arrived at a state 
of feeling highly becoming the possessor of increasing 
wealth. Addressing the innkeeper of the town, who 
was a member of one of the first families, with an air 
of consequence, he demanded a whole room for his 
accommodation, when heretofore the third chance in a 
bed would have been considered a luxury, oriental in its 
character, and a blessing befitting a ‘‘three tailed bashaw.” 

The little town was an important one, as all sucker 
towns are, yet the arrival of our hero was enough to 
create a sensation from its one extremity to the other. 
An acquaintance with the innkeeper soon gained him 
an introduction to the member of the legislature from 
that district, and this opening soon made him intimate 
with the town. Many efforts were made by the citizens 
to “ draw him out,” and learn his business, but John 
kept dark. “ He’s a close fellar,” said a sucker 
citizen, “but I reckon, arter all, his business is pole- 
ticks.” These and sundry other “ ambiguous givings 
out,” assured our hero that he was a subject of gene- 
ral interest. “ What is his politics was a question of 
import, duly discussed in the leading political circles ; 
and “was he married.^” — and, “ who’d get him, if he 
wasn’t was equally an absorbing matter of interest 
among the ladies; indeed, an animated discussion as to 
his preference had already caused a coolness between 
several pairs of devoted female friends. It was said 
that the pert Miss A — , the storekeeper’s daughter, had 


30 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

absolutely walked down the principal street of B , 

right before our hero, swinging the skirt of her frock 
in a most enticing manner. Such a bold and forced 
movement to take him by surprise, before any other 
maid could get a chance, was declared, at a tea and 
gossip party, to be most “ tolerable and not to be en- 
dured.’’ At length his object was made known — he 
inquired of the legislative member, if that was a good 
point to establish a paper, and as soon as his surprise 
would permit, the member declared it to be an immense 
place, indeed, an enormous location, and more than that, 
the material for an establishment was in the town, had 
been in operation, and all it wanted was an editor to 
conduct the paper. John signified his ability and wil- 
lingness, and the intelligence spread through the town 
like a prairie fire, and some pretty noses turned up as 
their owners exclaimed — <‘Why, I swow, he’s only a 
printer, after all !” 

The member for the district, along, lanky, cadaverous 
lawyer, who was death on a speech, powerful in chew- 
ing tobacco, and some at a whisky drinking, was part 
owner of the printing concern, and having an opponent 
in the district, who had started a paper in the lower 
town, on the river, to oppose him, he was most anxious 
to get the press going; so, assuring John he could have 
it at his own terms, and one hundred and fifty subscribers 
to commence with, w’hich must of course swell to a 
thousand, they settled the matter, and proceeded to 
examine the establishment. It was at length agreed 
that our hero should give one hundred and twenty-five 
dollars of his one hundred and fifty, in cash, and his 
note for four hundred and fifty dollars more, payable at 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 31 

the end of a year, besides fifty dollars rent for the office, 
which also belonged to the lawyer. A meeting of 
the first citizens of the town was held on the ensuing 
evening, to which John Earl, Esq., was formally intro- 
duced as the new editor of the B Eagle, and the 

re-commencement of the paper duly discussed. 

“ You’ve hearn tell of the bank and tariff questions 
inquired a leading constituent and subscriber. 

John answered ‘‘yes,” he was somewhat acquainted 
with them. 

“ Well, boss, we ’spect you to be right co-chunk up 
to the hub on them thar questions, and to pour it inter 
the inimy in slashergaff style.” 

John agreed to do his prettiest. 

“ In the town below us,” continued the constituent, 
“ thar is a fellar of the inimy who’s dead bitter agin 
us and our town, so you must gin him scissors ! Rile 
him up, and sot his liver workin’, ’cause the skunk is 
injurin’ our location. Advartis’ our doins’ in gineral, 
sich as we got to sell, and throw yourself wide on the 
literary fixins and poetry, for the galls — and^ Mister 
Earl, ef you ony do this genteely, and with spirit, the 
whole town will take the paper! Don’t forgit to gin the 
town below particular saltpetre.” 

John gave them to understand that if his subscribers 
wished it, he would not only cut up the editor, but 
throw the lower town into a series of fits which would 
cause its utter dissolution. All being duly settled, our 
hero retired to his room to dream of future greatness. 
Already did he behold sheets' filled with editorial tact 
and talent— ^already was his name inscribed upon the 
roll with illustrious editorial contemporarits — Ritchie, 


32 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

Pleasants, Blair, Gales, Chandler, Prentice and Neal, 
those great names of the tripod tribe already numbered 
him on their list, and he fancied ‘‘ his name grown great 
in mouths of wisest censure,” while his pockets were 
correspondingly corpulent with the reward for such 
ability. Poor fellow, could he have drawn aside the 
curtain, and beheld the days of toil, the struggles to 
procure ink and paper, the labor of writing editorials, 
and the labor of setting them up, working them off at 
press, pasting up the mail, and the lack of reward which 
repaid this drudgery, he would have kicked ambition 
out of his company, and clutched his little hoard like a 
vice. 

The town of B and the town below, had been 

rivals ever since they were first laid out upon a map — 
the growth of one had always been the envy of the 
other, and an improvement in one was sure to be imi- 
tated by the other. The lower town had been most suc- 
cessful in the publication of a newspaper, for the reason 
that they paid something to support it, while the town 
of B suffered for the neglect they manifested to- 

wards the press. The editor below not only abused 
the religion, politics, merchandise, and intelligence of 

B , but the beauty of the women, and the smartness 

of the babies ; he had even gone so far as to say that 

B women and babies could be known by their 

heads. This was an outrage most unpardonable, and 
John rose in estimation as their defender against such 
vandal accusations. 

Behold John seated scratching out his first editorial ! 
Ah, ye weavers of cheap literature, who have watched 
with aching cuiiosity the appearance of your first pro- 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 33 

(luction — ye writers of small poetry for daily journals, 
who have listened so eagerly for praise — ye penny edi- 
tors who have successfully tickled the popular ear — ye 
ruling deities of mammoth weeklies, what are all your 
feelings, concentrated into one great throb, in comparison 
to the mighty throes of talent waking from her sleep in 
the mind of John Earl. It would have shocked the 
lower town like the heaving of a volcano, had they but 
known the shower of expletives our hero was tracing on 
the sheet before him. Goths and Vandals, corruption 
and spoilsmen, traitors and apostates, vile incendiaries 
and polluting vipers, poisonous demagogues, and a host 
more, bitter as sin, were showered like hail from his 
pen, when giving perticular goss” to the lower town 
editor and his abettors. 

With the appearance of the first number our hero’s 
consequence began to rise, the respectable citizens took 
him cordially by the hand, and their daughters smiled ^ 
upon him, while the poorer inhabitants wondered at his 
“ lamin’.” 

A most excellent first number,” said the lanky 
member, «« a good quantity of hot shot — ^just the thing 
— sew the lower town up — you’ve got prodigious talents 
— immense !” 

John bowed to the pleasing flattery. 

‘‘Well, boss,” said the storekeeper constituent and 
subscriber, “ You’ve slashed the hide ofT’er that fellar 
in the lower town, touched his raw, and rumpled his 
feathers — that’s the way to give him Jessy. I raily be- 
lieve you’ll git yourself inter the legislatur’ afore long, 
ef you keep on.” 

Our hero listened to these first breathings of fame 

6 


34 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

with a swelling bosom — there was a chance of his becom- 
ing somebody, at last, and labor became a pleasure when 
it produced such a yield. At a public meeting called in 
the town he was elected secretary, and ventured on the 
occasion to make a speech, which was loudly applauded, 
and in the next number of the Eagle appeared a glowing 
description of the proceedings, with a synopsis of his 
own speech. This aw'oke some jealousy in the mind of 
the lanky member, who thought John wished to supplant 
him. As time progressed the Eagle increased its subscrip- 
tion to two hundred, its editor grew popular, in debt, 
and received nothing from his subscribers — indeed, he 
soon discovered that pay made up no part of their pa- 
tronage, and he began to grow tired of laboring for glory 
alone. All this time the war was waging hotter and 
thicker betw'een the towns and their editors. At length 
he of the low'er town inserted in his Patriotic Herald 
and Telegraph” the following : 

We are informed, from good authority, that the 
Buzzard of the Eagle cannot pay his board bill, and 
fears are entertained that he will sloye without liquidat- 
ing the debt !” 

This was personal — every body said it w’as personal 
— the lanky member said it must be wiped out wuth 
blood — the storekeeper swore that John must «« eat the 

other fellar’s gizzard,^"" and the ladies of B resolved, 

at a tea party, that the death of the lower town editor 
could alone atone for the many indignities he had heaped 
upon them, and John was the very man to offer himself 
up as a sacrifice. All the subscribers to the Eagle were 
interested in the matter, for they would gain in any 
event, as how : If the lower town editor was removed, 


THE WESTERN WANDF:RINGS OF A TYPO. 35 

an enemy had perished ; if John fell, a creditor’s ac- 
counts were closed, so they were unanimous for a duel. 
The lanky member informed John of the general opinion 
of the public as to what he should do, and urged the 
sending of a challenge forthwith, which he offered to 
bear. John intimated that he must have a day to prac- 
tise before he sent the missive, and this was acceded 
to as prudent, but bowie knives were recommended by 
his friend as much the safest and sure means of killing. 

Our hero seated himself in the Eagle office that night, 
where the ghost of his departed greatness visited his 
waking thoughts, to laugh at his present misery. Of 
his one hundred and fifty dollars, but twenty-five re- 
mained — his clothes were nearly worn out — his board 
bill unpaid — his subscriptions and advertisements ditto, 
and the supply of paper and ink was insufficient for 
another issue, besides a duel on hand with another poor 
devil of an editor, and the whole town thirsting for the 
bloody transaction. A thought flashed upon his brain — 
he would go see his antagonist. No sooner was the 
idea conceived than he put it in execution. Gathering 
up his remaining twenty-five dollars he set off in the 
night for the lower town, where he arrived about day- 
light. After a hasty breakfast at the inn, he entered the 

Herald office,” and seating himself upon the only chair 
in the establishment, inquired for the editor. A little 
pale man, engaged at case^ lay down his composing stick 
and advanced, expecting a new subscriber, but started 
to run as soon as he was informed that the editor of the 
“ Eagle” was before him. John stopped his egress 
and made him sit down while he talked to him. A 
conversation brought on mutual apologies, and he found 


36 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

his antagonist as great a sufferer as himself — the mere 
hack of county politicians, who had been lured by the 
same phantom — greatness, until he had worn himself to 
a corresponding shadow, chasing the vision. The two 
typo editors shook hands in friendship, and our hero 
departed homeward. 

On John’s arrival he encountered the member, who 
urged the- immediate despatch of the challenge, which 
J5hn refused, and to his refusal added some words of 
contempt for the citizens of B , and their represen- 

tative in particular. This aroused the member, who de- 
clared that cowardice had driven him over to the enemy. 
To prove the falsehood of this assertion, John knocked 
the member down, and kicked his honor must indig- 
nantly. The editor of the Eagle was well aware, that 
after this outbreak he must ‘‘ break for tall timber,” so 
cooking a smash dish of pi in his office, he bequeathed 
the feast to his successor, and leaving his subscription 
list, and interest in the concern, to pay his debts, he 
beat a hasty retreat. As he hurried through the woods 
skirting the river, the welcome puff of a steamer saluted 
his ear, and waving his handkerchief as a signal, she 
stopped, landed a boat, and took him on board. 

Farewell to B , its dreams of greatness had faded 

to mist, and instead of growing honor, emolument, and 
renown, it had yielded naught but the fruit of bitterness, 
accompanied with toil and care, the end of which was a 
roll back to the bottom of the hill he had fancied already 
climbed. The great of earth will smile at his troubles, 
— happy for him that his disposition would only permit 
them to cause a momentary sadness. As the steamer 
receded from the scene of his late vexation and care, he 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 37 

began to rejoice in his freedom, and in a light-hearted 
mood paced her deck, an untrammelled candidate for 
new fortune. Bright dreams of the future came again, 
and what a blessing it is that the lonely adventurer in 
this world is permitted to dream, for with a vivid ima- 
gination he may revel in joys which waking reality can 
never equal. 

Let us return a moment to B . All there, as may 

be supposed, was a scene of confusion, indignation, and 
horror, at the outrage inflicted upon the member — he 
had absolutely been kicked ! A warrant was issued for 
John, and then it was discovered he had sloped — more 
indignation! The editor of the lower town still lived, 
and the member had been kicked — horror! The office 
of the Eagle was in pi and its editor non est, which 
means nowhere — terrible excitement ! Here was capital 
for the lower town editor, and didn’t he use it — to use a 
classical expression he lit upon the upper town and its 
member like a thousand of brick!” He charged them 
with starving their editor, charged their editor with cow- 
ardice, charged the member wdth tamely submitting to 
be kicked by the aforesaid cowardly editor, and wound 
up by asserting that the town of B produced no- 

thing but pusillanimous men, ugly women, and pug- 

nosed babies ! The glory of B , departed while the 

lower town swelled into vast importance, and its editor 
received a present of two new shirts from the ladies of 
his section, besides three spirited subscribers paid him 
one dollar each, of their four years subscription — a stretch 
of liberality so astounding, that to this day the event 
forms one of the most interesting legends of the Sucker 
state. 


33 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 


CHAPTER IV. 

HIS WANDERINGS THROUGH THE PRAIRIES. 

John, now released from his thraldom, bent his way to 
Chicago, to pursue fortune in the lake country, and land- 
ing ait Peoria, he resolved to foot it across the prairies, 
to the head of Lake Michigan. His store, as usual, em- 
braced a scanty wardrobe, attached to the end of a stick, 
and twenty dollars in cash. As he journeyed on, he would 
occasionally break into a laugh as the recollections of 

B would intrude themselves upon his thoughts. 

His former castle-building, however, served to enliven 
the way with merriment, as foot and eye travelled into 
the future, and setting the past down as so much paid 
for experience, he consoled himself with the thought of 
his youth and health, snapped his fingers at care, and 
held himself in an easy state of mind to receive what- 
ever fate might send him. At the close of the second day 
of his journey he halted on the edge of a prairie at a small 
log house. A tidy woman was bustling about in the in- 
terior, and two children, whose little faces were yellow 
as saffron, sat listlessly upon the door sill, playing with 
bits of broken delf. Their narrow habitation presented 
little of comfort to cheer the inmates or welcome the 
traveller. He inquired if he could lodge there, and 
the woman answered that such as she had to offer, he 
was welcome to, but being a lonely widow, and far 
from where any thing comfortable could be obtained, 
she had but poor accommodations to offer. Our hero 
was easily pleased, and so signified to her. Depositing 
his bundle within, he took the axe from her hands, with 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 39 

which she was about to chop some wood, and throwing 
off his coat, he prepared the fuel to cook their evening 
repast, then seating himself upon a hickory bottomed 
chair, he took the widow’s sickly little daughter upon 
his knee, and coaxed a smile into her wan countenance. 
The mother watched the gambols of her child with the 
merry stranger, and a tear of pleasure sparkled in her 
eye, while the feeling sent a pleasing expression over 
her sad countenance ; she spoke to him, too, in a tone 
of kindness different from her first words, because there 
was something friendly about his manner, and his light- 
hearted gayety was cheering to her sorrow. 

When the table was spread, the corn cakes and pork 
placed upon it, with some milk, John seated himself 
with the children beside him, and attended to their little 
wants, with such kindness of manner, that ere the meal 
had ended, the little family began to imbibe something 
of their guest’s gay spirit. As they gathered around the 
fire that evening, the widow ventured to inquire where 
her visiter w^as from, and when he informed her he "was 
a Philadelphian, her eyes filled with tears, — that, too, 
was her birthplace. Looking upon the stranger, now, as 
a brother whom she had encountered in the wilderness, 
she poured into his ear her sad story. Her husband and 
herself, both young, had started some years previous 
from Philadelphia, for the west — his object being to 
secure a home of his own, and liking the spot where 
their cabin stood, they squatted all went cheerfully 
for a time, but sickness soon came, and the prevailing 
fever of the country had swept him away from her side, 
leaving: her far from Ihe home of her childhood, with 
two children, friendless and alone. Sad days had pass* 


40 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

ed since then, and hope was almost dead within her. 
Beneath a small hillock, surrounded with a little paling 
of pointed sticks, drove into the ground by her own 
hands, reposed the remains of her husband, and there 
lay buried all her hopes for the future. John spoke 
cheeringly to her, and to divert her thoughts from pre- 
sent sorrow, talked of their far-off home. The widow’s 
little girl nestled in his lap, her little hands clasped 
around one of his, her head reclining upon his breast, 
while on a stool at the mother’s side sat her little boy, 
and thus and there the w^andering printer called up a 
panorama of their birthplace. Old Christ Church bells 
sounded in their ears again a Christmas’ peal — together 
they wandered by the Schuylkill side ; or, climbing 
Fair Mount hill, looked out upon the wide-spread city ; 
or, trod again its streets teeming with a gay and busy 
populace — each w^ell-knowm antique habitation or hall, 
remembered by both, was spoken of with affection, as 
a memento of happy days — the wide and dreary prairie, 
over w^hich the autumn wind was sighing cold and 
sadly, was forgotten now’ — scenes far aw’ay rose like 
shadows around the inhabitants of the log mansion, and 
the hum of the old city drowned the voice of the west 
wind, as it moaned around their dwelling. There w’as 
the place, and those the circumstances, in which home 
wore its most heavenly hue. The lone widow that 
night thanked Heaven in her prayers, that one had been 
directed across her pathway to cheer her heart with sw’eet 
remembrances ; and in her dreams, as she w^andered 
again among the scenes of childhood, the faces she met 
all bore resemblance to the stranger — their tones of 
welcome sounded like his, and a smile, sweet as ever, 



“ Raising his hat and kissing liis hand, lie tnniod down the slope, and was 
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THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 41 

rested upon a virtuous mother’s lip ; she slumbered 
through the live long , night in happiness. The good 
angel, who registers kindness of mortal to mortal, surely 
marked here a credit in favor of the typo. 

When the morning sun cast his golden sheen over 
the rich carpet of the prairie, John prepared to depart, 
and shaking the widow by the hand, he assured her that 
she should see home again, for he would search out her 
friends and have her sent for. As he stepped off from 
the house, the little girl run after him for a farewell kiss, 
and taking out of his pocket the remainder of his little 
wealth, seventeen dollars in all, he reserved one dollar 
for his travelling expenses, and placing his purse, with 
the remaining sixteen dollars, in the belt of the child, 
sent her back to her mother, and with the step of an 
emperor strode on his way. At the brow of a rising 
slope, in view of the cabin, he turned back to look, and 
saw the widow and her little ones watching his receding 
footsteps — raising his hat and kissing his hand he turned 
down the slope and was soon hidden from their sight. 
Improvident John, to thus give all thy store, except a 
trifle, to the widow and the orphan. Ah, ye cold and 
sordid ones of earth, a single thrill such as played about 
his heart then, was worth a mountain of your money bags. 
Contrasting his situation with the poor widow whom he 
had just departed from, he felt rich as Croesus — the 
craft of his hand, his robust youth, and a single dollar 
were odds in his favor against the worst circumstances. 

Two days more had passed when weary and foot-sore 
he approached a small village, and accosting an inha-^ 
bitant leaning over a fence, he inquired if there was any 
chance of employment in the neighborhood. 


42 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

Well, I’m of the opinion, stranger,” said the sucker, 

that your chance here, is pretty mu^h as to what you 
can do — ef you’r anythin’ of a brick maker. Old Jo 
Simms wants a man at his yard, down thar at the 
branch ; but you don’t look amazin’ like a mud moul- 
der, boss !” 

I’m not much for looks,” said John, but I’m 
creation at shaping things, and as for bricks, I’m a 
whole load of them — ‘front stretchers,’ at that — made 
of choice clay — Father Adam’s patent — so just point 
the way to Jo Simms, and some day come over and 
see a specimen of my brick.” 

Receiving the proper direction, down he went to the 
brick-maker’s dwelling, where, on entering, he en- 
countered old Mrs. Jo Simms, and a look at her good 
humored countenance satisfied him, that an instalment 
on his new situation, in the shape of a supper and bed, 
was not only possible, but very probable. After making 
known his business, the old lady surveyed his person, 
and remarked — 

“ Well, the old man did talk of hirin’ some help, 
’cause thar’s a lot of brick orders on hand, and I sup- 
pose you mought do — you look dreadful draggled 
though, and tired as a prairie team, arter a hard day’s 
ploughin’.” 

John readily assented to her comment on his appear- 
ance, and asked if he could’nt have something to eat 
and a bed, for he was both tired and hungry, after his 
tramp to see about the situation. The good matron, 
sympathisingly, prepared him a good supper, and con- 
ducted him to a small, neat room over the kitchen, where 
a clean bed and comfortable covering lay temptingly in 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 43 

repose, as if waiting for some weary body, to rest it. 
This was no time to philosophise on luck, so John 
turned in and straight addressed himself to sleep — it 
came without coaxing, and as Morpheus wrapped him 
in her poppy robe, it seemed to him a covering of the 
softest fur and brightest hues. His dreams were peo- 
pled by a weary train of foot passengers, who toiled 
along beneath a burning sun, with sticks across their 
shoulders, and bundles dangling at their ends, while 
he seemed drawn on a chariot of air, whose delightful 
floating motion lulled the senses into a soft, dreamy 
languor — not a sleep of forgetfulness, but one where 
the brain was sensible of the body’s enjoyment — and 
refreshing breezes, laden with the fragrance of prairie 
flowers, fanned his brow. It was mortality tasting the 
repose of the gods ! When morning broke John turned 
himself on his couch just to realise the truth of his sit- 
uation, and hugged the covering to his rested body with 
a lover’s fervor. As he thus lay enjoying the waking 
reality, a conversation in the kitchen below him attracted 
his attention. The old lady was telling her son, a young 
man, that an applicant for the situation of help in the 
yard, was sleeping above. 

“ What, have you engaged him ?” inquired the 
son. 

‘‘ No, not azactly engaged him, but I gin the poor 
creatur’ suthin’ to eat, and sent him to bed, expectin’ to 
be engaged in the mornin’ — he’s not jest strong enough, 
but appears mity willin’.” 

Well, I’m consarned sorry you did any sich a 
thing,” said he, “ ’cause we won’t want a man for a 
month yit.” 


44 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

“Well, the creatur’ will be dreadfully disappintec 
answered the old lady. 

“ Not so much as you think, Mrs. Jo Simms,” 
thought our hero, and then he began to congratulate 
himself on his good fortune : 

“ I am a most lucky disciple of Faust,” said he, 
“ I’ve had a supper fit for a lord, and a couch where 
the imperial form of sovereignty might repose unruffled 
— and did — for I’m an august representative of Ame- 
rican sovereignty! What next? If the good angel of the 
lonely widow and her little ones don’t now desert me, 
I stand «a right smart chance’ of getting a breakfast 
into the bargain ! — Well,” concluded John, “this is too 
much luck for weak human nature to bear easily, so it 
is necessary to nerve myself, or I shall be overcome.” 
Dressing himself, he descended to the kitch-en, and made 
the acquaintance of the younger Jo Simms, who appeared 
very backward in breaking to our hero the sad news of 
his rejection as help in the yard. At length, however, 
he kindly broke the intelligence, and before John could 
answer he bflered him two dollars to pay his expenses 
back, and, moreover, invited him to partake of the 
smoking repast just preparing. 

“Say no more about it, my dear sir,” says John, 
“ such liberality removes the pain of disappointment.” 

It was refreshing to see how his phiz lighted up at his 
luck, and all parties being perfectly satisfied, they enjoy- 
ed the morning meal with a relish. As John was about 
to depart, the good old dame rolled him up a lunch of 
short cake, and he bid farewell to brick making. 

In a short time he arrived at Chicago, where he ob- 
tained work at his business, but the exposure he had 


/ 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 45 

undergone brought on the fever and ague, which shook 
him out of all respect for Illinois, and he therefore de- 
termined to leave it, so embarking one bright morning, 
he shook it an adieu which made his teeth chatter, 
which excitement was of course followed by a most 
subduing fever. 

On the fifth day after their departure from Chicago, 
while crossing the head of Lake Erie, from Detroit river 
towards Cleveland, John had stretched himself after a 
shake, upon a settee at the head of the cabin, and in 
sight of the gangway leading to the boiler deck, and 
while thus in a reposing attitude he was enjoying quietly 
his fever, he observed one of the hands ascend from 
below, his visage all begrimed and covered with a pro- 
fuse perspiration, and cautiously approach the captain, 
to whom he whispered something which produced much 
excitement in the commander’s countenance, but his 
manner exhibited no haste. Coolly walking through 
the cabin and around the boat, he approached the 
gangway and looked below, then carefully surveyed the 
passengers, as if to note whether he was observed. John, 
wLo had been watching his movements, arose from his 
couch and advanced towards him, the captain spread 
himself before the hold to prevent his seeing below, 
whereupon our hero, who had shrewdly guessed the 
cause of his agitation, whispered in his ear to descend, 
that he knew the steamer was on fire below, and while 
endeavouring to quench it, he would divert the attention 
of any who might approach the hold. The captain 
thanked him, and John took his post. How dreadful 
was their situation, yet how unconcerned all on board 
walked about, or lounged upon seats around the cabin 


46 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

and decks. Beneath them struggled one destroying 
element, and around them on either side, dancing in 
the sunbeams, spread another ; while like a thread upon 
the surface of the far-off waters appeared the only land 
in view. Oh, how the flickering flame struggled in that 
dark hold for mastery, and how bravely the sinewy arms 
of its late masters battled to get it again in bondage, 
one moment the hissing water appeared to have quenched 
it, but the next the bright flame curled up far in by the 
boiler side, and a fold of dark smoke would roll out 
derisively in the face of its foes. It was a contest for 
life, and here upon the broad wave the fire had them at 
fearful odds. In a short time the commander appeared 
on deck, very much agitated, and taking our hero aside, 
he declared to him that there was no hope — the fire was 
increasing ! Calling the passengers together, he informed 
them of their situation, and opening a closet distributed 
among them a number of life preservers, then ordering 
the boats cleared, he coolly prepared for the catastrophe. 
Some of the passengers grew almost frantic ; and if not 
prevented, would have plunged overboard to certain 
death ; others calmly prepared for the worst, and some 
were amusing in their lamentations. 

“ Captin, you’ll hev tu pay right smartly for that 
truck of mine, if you git it spiled,” said a down easter, 
“ and it’s jest my luck tu meet with sech consarned 
ruin. — There ain’t no sea sarpints in this lake as you 
know on, is there } du tell us, now, afore a fellow’s 
shoved off” 

Is it sarpents.^” inquired an Irishman, oh, me 
darlint, if that was all we had to contind with, I’d curl 
him up like the worm uv a still, wid the crass I’ve got, 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 47 

but it’s the thunderin’ sharks that’ll make short work 
uv a body, and divil a crass’ll pravint thim.” 

“ Now, these things,” said Jonathan, holding up a 
gum elastic, “they calls life presarvers ; why, I swowtu 
gracious, if they aint more like patent forks, tu hold a 
fellar up, while the consumed lake varmints nibbles his 
legs off, comfortably.” 

A large fat lady, who had provided herself with an 
enormous sized preserver, was in a dreadful way to 
know if her chance for floating was at all probable. 

“ Why, bless you, Marm,” said the mate, “ there’s 
wund enough about you to float a whaler.” — The fat 
lady became tranquil with this assurance. 

It was now proposed by the captain, to cut a hole 
through the vessel’s deck, and pour in water directly 
upon the fire ; this being the only hope for saving the 
vessel, it was instantly adopted, and willing hands in 
a few moments made the opening, into which the 
boat’s hose was turned, and in a brief period, the en- 
gineer reported the heat abating. The spirits of all 
on board revived on hearing this intelligence, and a 
further application of the counter element removed all 
grounds for fear. As the horrors of their late situation 
disappeared, the light house at the mouth of Cleveland 
harbor rose in view, calming the fears of all, and mark- 
ing in its welcome proportions the scene of rest for our 
wandering hero. What here chanced to befall him we 
shall reserve for our concluding chapter. 


48 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 


CHAPTER V. 

HIS ENCOUNTER WITH OLD FRIENDS. 

Our hero, on landing in Cleveland, placed his bun- 
dle in one hand, and stick in the other, and thus leisurely 
sauntered up the hill and through the main street of this 
young mart of trade. Although his body drooped with 
sickness, the air of life and thriving industry which sur- 
rounded him, aroused his active mind to exertion. His 
old companion of travel resided here, and now was a 
fitting time to try his professions of regard. While 
reading the signs along the street, he mentally ventured 
the opinion that Smith & Co.’’ were doing an extensive 
business, for their name was attached to commercial 
concerns all over the country ; and as thus ruminating, 
another, and quite as familiar a name, met his eye, be- 
sides it was a vastly more interesting name — none other 
than his old adopted Father'^s cognomen. He could 
scarcely bring himself to believe that the imposing store 
before him was really occupied by those who were so 
endeared to him by past kindness — that was a streak of 
too good luck to be possible ; nevertheless, thinking he 
might gratify himself with a peep at the possessor of so 
honored a name, he approached the window, and looked 
into the interior — can it be ? — yes it is ! — plain as a 
])ipe stem” — sure enough, his old adopted father stood 
before him ! There, amid the piles of soles and uppers, 
with spectacles on nose, and head a little bald, stood that 
veritable good old soul^ who had sheltered his infant 
years. Time had not furrowed his brow with the chisel, 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 49 

but his brush had traced its easy progress; nor had 
the storm torn away his locks — the gentle zephyr had 
plucked the silvery threads away to sport with them in 
the sunbeam. Contentment lingered in his quiet smile, 
and ‘‘ well to do in the world,” was legibly written 
upon his portly person. John entered the store, and 
putting on the air of a purchaser, seated himself upon a 
settee, and held his foot up to be measured — the old 
man adjusted his spectacles, kneeled down upon one 
knee, stole a glance over his glasses at his customer, 
and commenced taking the dimensions of our hero’s 
foot ; but there was an indescribable something about 
the face, which drove the foot from his memory, and 
while he was trying to rake up from the past some 
known body on which to fix the head and face, he for- 
got that he was holding the foot, until John asked him, 
if there was anything uncommon about its shape?’’ 
The old man, stammering an excuse, started to his draw- 
ers to select a pair of the right size, but the stranger’s 
face again so mixed itself up with the figures on his 
strap and rule, that he was forced to return and measure 
the foot over again. John observed his quandary, and 
smiled at the old man’s efforts to recollect him. At this 
moment the old lady came to the door separating the 
shop from the dwelling, and looking in, spoke to her 
husband ; our hero recognised her in a moment, he could 
not refrain himself, but springing to his feet with a shout, 
he laughingly held out his arms, exclaiming «« Mother, 
don’t you know me !” If not at the first glance, the 
tones of his voice, and the ring of his merry laughter, 
called up the vivid remembrance of his boyish days with 
the rapidity of thought, and throwing herself into his 
arms she sobbed with joy, as if he were in verity her 
7 


50 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

own long lost offspring; the old man, too, dropping his 
measure, seized our hero ; and here tears of true feeling 
mingled in one current — remembrances of the past 
clustered around, and joy, deep and holy as dwells 
within the human breast, held uninterrupted revel. 

The store was closed early that night, and as they 
were seated round the evening meal, John would, with 
sketches of his past history since they parted, at one mo- 
ment draw from them shouts of merriment, and then again, 
as he dwelt on some hard streak of fortune, “beguile them 
of their tears.’’ Oh, it was a happy night, that night 
of meeting on the shore of the broad lake. The gay 
revel within sumptuous halls affords no joy like this, for 
here the fountains of the heart danced to the music of 
affection ; the air to which they kept time was “ past 
days,” and their pure current swelled into a flood of 
nature’s kindliest harmony — all was joy, all happiness. 
With a motherly care, as in days of his childhood, the 
old lady stripped his neck, and washed away the dust of 
travel, then conducting him to a neatly furnished cham- 
ber, she kissed him good night, and retired to thank Hea- 
ven that her aged eyes had been permitted to see him 
again. While our hero slept happily above, the old folks 
talked long and earnestly in the chamber beneath him, 
and before they closed their eyes in sleep, resolved that he 
should never again part from them. They had none in 
this world to care for, save him, and Heaven, the old lady 
said, had sent him back to their roof to be an honor 
and comfort to their old age. In the morning they awoke 
to a renewal of these happy feelings, and over the break- 
fast table future plans w'ere freely discussed. John 
mentioned his travelling acquaintance, and taking the 
card from his vest pocket, showed it to his adopted 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 51 

father, who immediately recognised the owner as one 
of his customers, one of the most wealthy, and of 
course, respected citizens in Cleveland. To visit him 
a new suit was necessary, and after the morning meal 
the old man piloted him to a tailoring establishment, and 
fitted him from head to foot in a fine suit — in short, he 
disguised our hero, and it was pleasant to see with 
what admiration the aged couple looked through their 
spectacles at the change. 

I c?e-clare if you don’t look like a gentleman, when 
you’re dressed,” said the old lady. 

‘‘And why not, mother?” inquired John.” It is the 
material which passes current for gentility. If half 
mankind, who now move through good society unques- 
tioned, were placed in my old dusty suit, the world would 
never discover their claims to the title — no, no ! After 
all, your fine suit is the w’orld’s standard of a fine 
gentleman — it will gain the owner consideration among 
mixed assemblies — credit in the mart of trade — a high 
place in the synagogue, and moreover, it is a general 
ticket, entitling its possessor to the w^orld’s civility !” 

“Well, bless me!” exclaimed the old woman, “if 
they don’t make a change in your talk — you’re gittin’ 
right toploftical.” 

After many thanks on our hero’s part, and much ad- 
miration on the part of his friends, he received permis- 
sion to wander forth and see his old friend of the road^ 
to whose dwelling he was correctly directed by the shoe 
dealer. A kiss from his adopted mother, a five dollar 
bill from the old man, for pocket money, and out sallied 
John, his person erect, and step buoyant with good for- 
tune — sickness had almost fled before his revived hopes. 

The aged pair stood in the store door gazing on his 


52 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

manly form, as he receded from them, and a feeling of 
pride glowed in their hearts, the nearest akin to a pa- 
rent’s, that nature will permit. They knew that no one 
could rightfully dispute their claim to him, and proud in 
their pre-emption right, they retired into their dwelling 
with newly awakened pleasure. Arrived at his travelling 
acquaintance’s mansion, he looked at the name of 

Charles C. Briggs, Attorney at Law,” upon the door 
plate, and a glance at the exterior of the building, as- 
sured him that the dweller therein was one of the pros- 
perous class of his profession. Knocking at the office 
door in the basement, he was bid enter, and on doing so 
found seated at a desk, surrounded with piles of legal 
lore, the same old gentleman who had so kindly bid 
him farewell at Wheeling. The recognition was mutual, 
and the old man’s manner truly cordial. 

So, you found me out,” said the attorney. 

‘‘ Yes,” replied John, but a precious long tramp 
I’ve had to reach you.” 

His friend insisted upon his seating himself, and re- 
lating an outline of his adventures, at which he laughed 
most heartily, and when John had finished, he clapped 
him on the back, saying — 

‘‘ You are a lucky dog — in your first journey you 
have gathered more lessons of wisdom, than many 
meet with in a life time, and your mind may turn them 
into vast profit.” 

‘‘Well, I’d like to realise something out of them,” 
quietly remarked our hero, “ for I have expended all 
my capital in learning them.” 

And so, you have found other friends besides my- 
self in Cleveland,” remarked the lawyer, a worthy 
couple whom I happen to b« acquainted with, also ; 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 53 

between us, I think we will persuade you to become a 
fixture of society. I know not why, but I like you, and 
have often wished for the present meeting. Having no 
son of my own to assist me in my old days, and con- 
tinue my business after me, I have felt a desire to fin'd 
one who would fill the vacancy ; your intelligence and 
happy disposition, on our trip, made me like you, and 
now I would fain ripen those feelings into a strong bond 
of friendship. Come, you must dine with me, and then 
we will talk of the future.” 

John’s heart was swelling with friendship already, 
and he could almost have hugged the kind old lawyer, 
but as this was his first day at his adopted parents, he 
was forced to excuse himself for the present, on promise 
of returning on the morrow, and with kindling aspira- 
tions and noble resolves, he returned to his parents. 
There he recounted the lawyer’s words, and made 
known his intention of studying law with him, which 
met with general approval, and the little household put 
on quite an air of importance about its acquisition, while 
its mistress hurried about, chatting with her new found 
child wuth all the garrulousness of kindly old age. 

On the next day, John, according to appointment, 
placed his legs under the mahogany of his friend, the 
lawyer, and w'hile the meal progressed he amused the 
company by relating some episodes of his travel and 
observation, but every now and then, a strange quietness 
might be observed to pass over his demeanor, and his 
eyes would wander furtively to the other end of the 
table, where \vas seated the fair daughter of tiis host, 
whose dark eyes met his stolen glances, and sent the 
blood tingling to his brows. Look another way, John, 
— there’s danger in those dark eyes ! What, you, who 


54 THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 

have looked unmoved at scores of bright eyes, to trem- 
ble now at a single pair — out upon you — look straight 
into those dark orbs, and dare their power — now ! — 
pshaw, man, you shake and stammer as if a battery of 
loaded cannon, with the lighted fusees behind them, 
were pointed at you. Ah, I see, your merriment is at 
an end now — busy thoughts, strange dreams, and bright 
hopes are coursing through your bewildered brain. And 
so they were — that visit had planted new feelings in his 
breast. He entered the old lawyer’s mansion, as he 
thought, the possessor of all he wished on earth — a home, 
and an opportunity to rise — yet here was aroused a feel- 
ing which absorbed all the rest — he never felt himself 
poor before. Before, he was the possessor of a light heart, 
but now that heart had been spirited away by a felonious 
pair of eyes, and his mind was racked with dread, for fear 
he might not be able to compromise with the possessor, 
and be permitted to keep it company — here was a 
take^'^ in the book of human nature, which was most 
fair copy,” and fain would our hero take unto himself 
the page. Fear not, John, all in good time — the fair 
daughter of your old friend is troubled, too — a merry 
printer has, by his gentle manners, and most winning 
address, made a deep impression there, and is sadly 
troubling the little heart of its fair possessor. She thinks, 
she would like to forget him, but in trying to do so she 
must think of what she would forget, and thus he ever 
comes uppermost in her mind, and his pleasing coun- 
tenance and coaxing eye gains a firmer footing in her 
affections. 

Arrangements were made before the lawyer and ouf 
hero parted, that he should forthwith commence the 
study of law, and accordingly he set himself down upon 


THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO. 55 

uov.. Coke and Littleton, with the determination of be- 
coming a pillar of the state. A most dangerous neigh- 
borhood he chose to study in — dangerous for t^he hasty 
progress of his studies in legal lore, for long before he 
was fitted for a single degree, as a student at the bar, 
he had become a professor of love; and how soon he 
learned to look deep into those eyes, and read the mind 
within, twine himself around the tendrils of the fair girl’s 
heart, and plead in choicest language for permission to 
nestle there ; and how the eyes softly permitted the bold 
student to look, and then loved to have him look, and, 
then consented that he might gaze at will — aye,ybr Vfe ! 

On a clear wintry night, while the wind of the lake 
whistled merrily across its congealed bosom, and the 
stars were looking down with clear faces into the bright 
icy mirror beneath — the sound of sweet music, and the 
tread of light feet resounded in the mansion of the old 
lawyer, by the broad lake side, — a «« merrie companie” 
filled its halls, for John Earl, the no longer wandering 
typo,” was about to become his son-in-law — or, son-in- 
love, as w’ell as law — or both — and the bright eyes of 
one of Ohio’s fairest daughters looked all confidingness 
and love, as she stood up before the assembled throng, 
and whispered herself into his possession. There was 
gay doings that night in this w^estern mansion, and joy 
that age was a large partaker of ; for the old pair, who 
sheltered the printer’s orphan, years agone, and miles 
away, were guests within it, and their hearts swelled 
with pride, as they looked upon their adopted child, 
and his fair bride. The old shoemaker quietly remarked 
to his happy son, that no maid in the city stepped upon 
a more fairy foot, or wore so small a shoe ; but he hoped 
to live long enough, to make a smaller size for the Earl 


56 


“ NOT A DROP MORE, MAJOR, 


family, and then he laughed as if the job would be a right 
merry one, and the purchaser of such a shoe, a favored 
customer. 

Time has progressed since then, and we have listened 
to John Earl, Esq., in the capital of his adopted state, 
as in clear tones, and patriotic fervor, he stood advocat- 
ing the great truths of republican principles, and we have 
listened with pride and admiration, when those words 
proved that the child of the people, was the people’s 
advocate. He did not, in his hour of prosperity, forget 
the lonely widow of the prairie, but had her and her 
little ones brought to Cleveland, and having by letters 
found her friends, he sent her home rejoicing — the little 
one to whom he last bid adieu in the wilderness still 
remembered him, and with her little lips pouting for a 
kiss, was the last again to bid him farewell. 

We have traced our hero to the end of his wander- 
ings, and leave him upon the stage of public action — on 
the road to eminence ; and though many may read as 
though these words and scenes were the coinage of the 
writer’s brain, yet let him assure those who so judge, 
that there be such « streaks of life,” in the book of a 
Typo’s biography. 


“NOT A DROP MORE, MAJOR, UNLESS IT’S 
SWEETEN’D.” 

In a small village, in the southern section of Missouri, 
resides a certain Major, who keeps a small, cosey, com- 
fortable little inn, famous for its sweeteri^d drinks^ as 
well as jovial landlord ; and few of the surrounding 



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UNLESS it’s sweeten’d. 


57 


farmers visit the neighborhood, without giving the 
Major a friendly call, to taste his mixtur\ The gay 
host, with jolly phiz, round person, bright eye, and 
military air, deals out the rations, spiced with jokes, 
which, if they are not funny, are at least laughed at, 
for the Major enjoys them so vastly himself, that his 
auditors are forced to laugh, out of pure sympathy. 

A good old couple, who resided about six miles from 
the Major’s, for a long period had been in the habit of 
visiting him once a month, and as regularly went home 
dreadfully sweeten'' d with the favorite mixtur'\ but of 
late, we learn, the amicable relations existing between 
the Major and his old visitors have been broken off by 
green-eyed jealousy. On the last visit, good cause was 
given for an end being put to any more ‘«s\\'eet drinking.” 

Uncle Merril, how are you, any how,” was the 
Major’s greeting, «« and I cfeclare if the Missus aint with 
you, too '"' — ^just as if he expected she wouldn’t come. 
‘‘What’ll you take Missus.-* shall I sweeten you a little 
of about the best Cincinnati rectified that ever was toted 
into these ’ere parts i* — it jest looks as bright as your 
eyes!” and here the Major winked and looked so sweet 
there was no resisting, and she did take a little sweeten’d. 

The hours flew merril-Xy by, and evening found the 
old couple so overloaded with sweets, that it was with 
great difficulty they could be seated on the old grey 
mare, to return home ; but, after many a kind shake 
from the host, and just another drop of his sweeten’d, 
off they jogged, see-sawing from side to side on the 
critter, the old lady muttering her happiness, and the 
old man too full to find words to express himself. 

“ Sich another man as that Major,” says she, “ ain’t 
nowhere — and sich a mixtur’ as he does make, is 


58 NOT A DROP MORE, MAJOR,” ETC. 

temptin’ to temperance lecturers. He is an amazin’ 
nice man, and, if any thing, he sweetens the last drop 
better than the first. Good gracious ! what a pleasin’ 
creatur’ he is !” 

Ever and anon these enconiums on the Major and 
his mixture broke from the old lady, until of a sud- 
den, on passing a small rivulet, a jolt of the mare’s 
silenced them, and the old man rode on a short distance 
in perfect quietness. At length he broke out with — 

‘‘Old 'woman, you and that ’ere Major’s conduct, 
to-day, war rayther unbecomin’ — his formalities war 
too sweet to be mistook, and you ain’t goin’ thar agin 
in a hurry.” 

Silence, was the only answer. 

“ Oh, you’re huffy, are you continued the old man. 
“Well, I guess you can stay so, till you give in,” 
and on he jogged, in a silently jealous mood. On ar- 
riving at the farm, he called to a negro to lift the old 
woman off, but Sam^ the nigger, stood gazing at him 
in silent astonishment. 

“Lift her ofl’, you Sam, do you hear.^ — and do it 
carefully, or some of her wrath’ll bile out. In spite of 
the Major’s sweetenin’ she’s mad as thunder.” 

“ Why, de lor’, massa, de ole ’omah aint dar,” re- 
plied Sam, his eyes standing out of his countenance. 
“Jest turn round, massa, and satisfy you’self dat de 
ole ’oman clar gone an missin — de lor^ 

And sure enough, on a minute examination by the 
old man, she was “ found missing.” The Major was 
charged at once with abduction, instant measures were 
taken for pursuit, and a party despatched to scour the 
roads. On proceeding about two miles on the road to 
the Major’s, the party were suddenly halted at the small 


NETTLE BOTTOM BALL. 


59 


rivulet, bj finding the Missus with her head lying partly 
in the little stream, its waters laving her lips, and softly 
murmuring — <«Not a drop more, Major, unless iVs 
sweetened 


NETTLE BOTTOM BALL; 

OR, BETSY JONES’ TUMBLE IN THE MUSH PAN. 

Well, it are a fact, boys,” said Jim Sikes, «« that I 
promised to tell you how I cum to git out in these 
Platte diggins, and I speculate yoif mout as well have it 
at onst, kase its bin troublin’ my conscience amazin’ to 
keep it kiver’d up. The afarr raised jessy in Nettle 
Bottom, and old Tom Jones’ yell^ when he swar he’d 
‘ chaw me up,’ gives my meat a slight sprinklin’ of ager 
whenever I think on it. 

‘‘You see, thar wur a small town called Equality, in 
Illinwc, that some speckelators started near Nettle Bot- 
tom, cos thar wur a spontaneos salt lick in the diggins, 
and no sooner did they git it agoin’ and build some stores 
and groceries thar, than they wagon’d from Cincinnati 
and other up-stream villages, a pacel of fellers to attend 
the shops, that looked as nice, all’ays, as if they wur 
goin’ to meetin’ or on a courtin’ frolic ; and ‘ salt their 
picters,’ they wmr etarnally pokin’ up their noses at us 
boys of the Bottom. Well, they got up a ball in the 
village, jest to interduce themselves to the gals round 
the neighborhood, and invited a few on us to make a 
contrary picter to themselves, and so shine us out of 
site by comparison. Arter lhat ball thur wan’t any 
thin’ talked on among the gals but what nice fellers the 


60 


NETTLE BOrfOM BALa. 


clerks in Equality wur, and how nice and slick they 
wore their har^ and their shiny boots, and the way they 
stirrupp’d down their trowsers. You couldn’t go to 
see one on ’em, that she wouldn’t stick one of these 
fellers at you, and keep a talkin’ how slick they looked. 
It got to be parfect pizen to hear of, or see the critters, 
and the boys got together at last to see what was to be 
done — the thing had grown parfectly alarmin’. At last 
a meetin’ was agreed on, down to old Jake Bents’. 

On next Sunday night, instead of takin’ the gals to 
meetin’, whar they could see these fellers, we left ’em 
at home, and met at Jake’s, and I am of the opinion 
thur was some congregated wrath thar — whew wan’t 
they ? 

< Oil and scissors!’ says Mike Jelt, ‘ let’s go down 
and lick the town, rite strait P 

‘‘ «No!’ hollered Dick Butts, ‘let’s kitch these slick 
badgers cornin’ out of meetin’, and tare the hide and 
feathers off on ’em!’ 

“ ‘ Why, darn ’em, what d’ye think, boys,’ busted 
in old Jake, ‘ I swar if they ain’t larnt our gals to W’ear 
starn cushins ; only this mornin’ I caught my darter 
Sally puttin’ one on and tyin’ it round her. She tho’t 
I was asleep, but I seed her, and I made the jade re- 
pudiate it, and ?io mistake — quicker /’ 

“ The boys took a drink on the occasion, and 
Equality town was slumberin’, for a*^hort spell, over a 
con-tiguous yearthquake. At last one of the boys pro- 
posed, before we attacked the town, that we should git 
up a ball in the Bottom, and jest out-shine the town 
chaps, all to death, afore we swallowed ’em. It w^as 
hard to gin in to this proposition, but the boys cum to 
it at last, and every feller started to put the afarr agoin’. 


NETTLE BOTTOM BALL. 


61 


I had been a long spell hankerin’ arter old Tom 
Jones’ darter, on the branch below the Bottom, and she 
was a critter good for weak eyes — maybe she hadn’t a 
pair of her own — well, if they warn’t a brace of movin’ 
light-houses, I wouldn’t say it — there was no calculatin’ 
the extent or handsomeness of the family that gal could 
bring up around her, with a feller like me to look arter 
’em. Talk about gracefulness, did you ever see a 
maple saplin’ movin’ with a south wind ? — It warn’t a 
crooked stick to compar’ to her, but her old dad was 
awful. He could jest lick anythin’ that said 600, in 
them diggins, out swar Satan, and was cross as a she 
6ar, with cubs. He had a little hankerin’ in favor of 
the fellers in town, too, fur they gin him presents of 
powder to hunt with, and he w^as precious fond of usin’ 
his shootin’ iron. I detarmin’d, anyhow, to ask his dai- 
ter Betsy to be my partner at the Netde Bottom Ball. 

«« Well, my sister Marth made me a bran new' pair 
of buckskin trowsers to go in, and rile my pictur, ef she 
didn’t put stirrups to ’em to keep ’em down. She said 
straps wur the fashion, and I should ware ’em. I jest 
felt with ’em on, as ef I had somethin’ pressin’ on me 
down — all my joints wuir sot tight together, but Marth 
insisted, and I knew' I could soon dance ’em off, so I 
gin in, and started off to the branch for Betsy Jones. 

‘‘ When I arriv, the old fellar wmr sittin’ smokin’ arter 
his supper, and the younger Jones’ wur sittin’ round 
the table, takin’ theirs. A whappin’ big pan of mush 
stood rite in the centre, and a l^rge pan of milk beside 
it, with lots of corn bread and butter, and Betsy was 
helpin’ the youngsters, w'hile old Mrs. Jones sot by, 
admirin’ the family collection. Old Tom took a hard 
star’ at me, and I kind a shook, but the straps stood it, 


62 


NETTLE BOTTOM BALL. 


and I recovered myself, and gin him as good as he sent, 
but I wur near the door, and ready to break if he show’d 
fight. 

‘‘ ‘ What the h — 11 are you doin’ in disgise,^ says the 
old man — he swore dreadfully — ‘ are you cornin’ down 
here to steal .^’ 

‘‘ I riled up at that. Says I, ‘ ef I wur cornin’ fur sich 
purpose, you’d be the last I’d hunt up to steal off on.’ 

‘‘ « You’re right,’ says he, ‘ I’d make a hole to light 
your innards, ef you did.’ And the old savage chuckled. 
I meant because he had nothin’ worth stealin’, but his 
darter, but he tho’t ’twas cos I was afear’d on him. 

«« Well, purty soon I gether’d up and told him what 
I cum down fur, and invited him to come up and take 
a drink, and see that all went on rite. Betsy was in an 
awful way fur fear he wouldn’t consent. The old 
’oman here spoke in favour of the move, and old Tom 
thought of the licker, and gin in to the measure. Off 
bounced Betsy up a ladder into the second story, and 
one of the small gals with her, to help put on the fix- 
ups. I sot down in a cheer, and fell a talkin’ at the old 
’oman. While we wur chattin’ away as nice as rela- 
tions, I could hear Betsy makin’ things stand round 
above. The floor was only loose boards kivered over 
wide joice, and every step made ’em shake and rattle 
like a small hurricane. Old Tom smoked away and 
the young ones at the table would hold a spoonful of 
mush to thur mouths and look at my straps, and then 
look at each other and snigger, till at last the old man 
seed ’em. 

‘ Well, by gun flints,’ says he, ‘ ef you ain’t makin’ 
ajosey ’ 

Jest di that moment, somethin’ gin way above, and 


NETTLE BOTTOM BALL. 


63 


may I die, ef Betsy, without any thin’ on yearth on her 
but one of these starn cushinSy didn’t drop rite through 
the floor, and sot herself, flat into the pan of mush ! 
I jest tho’t fur a second, that heaven and yearth had 
kissed each other, and squeezed me between ’em. 
Betsy squealed like a ’scape pipe, — a spot of the mush 
had spattered on the old man’s face, and burnt him, 
and he swore dreadful. I snatched up the pan of milk, 
and dashed it over Betsy to cool her off, — the old ’oman 
knocked me sprawlin’ fur doing it, and away went my 
straps. The young ones let out a scream, as if the 
infarnal pit had broke loose, and I’d jest gin half of my 
hide to have bin out of the old man’s reach. He did 
reach fur me, but I lent him one with my half-lows, on 
the smeller, that spread him, and maybe I didn’t leave 
sudden! I didn’t see the branch, but as I soused 
through it, I heerd Tom Jones swar he’d ‘ chaio me up, 
ef an inch big of me was found in them diggins in the 
mornin’. 

“ I did’nt know fur a spell whar I w^as runnin’, but 
hearing nuthin’ behind me, I slacked up, and jest con- 
sidered whether it was best to go home and git my 
traps strait, and leave, or go see the ball. Bein’ as I 
was a manager, I tho’t I’d go have a peep through the 
winder, to see ef it cum up to my expectations. While 
I was lookin’ at the boys goin’ it, one on ’em spied me, 
and they hauled me in, stood me afore the fire, to dry, 
and all hands got round, insistin’ on knowin’ what was 
the matter. I ups and tells all about it. I never heerd 
such laffin’, hollerin’, and screamin’, in all my days. 

«<Jest then, my trowsers gin to feel the fire, and 
shrink up about an inch a minit, and the boys and gals 
kept it up so strong, laffin at my scrape, and the pickle 


64 


A «« cat” story. 


I wur in, that I gin to git riley, when all at onst I seed 
one of these slick critters, from town, rite in among’ em, 
hollerin’ wuss than the loudest. 

‘Old Jones said he’d chaw you up, did he?’ says 
the town feller, he alVays keeps his word.^ 

“ That minit I biled over. I grabbed his slick Aar, 
and may be I didn’t gin him scissors ! Jest as I w'as 
makin’ him a chawed specimen, some feller holler’d out, 
— don’t let old Jones in with that ar rifle V I didn’t 
hear any more in that Bottom, — lightnin’ could’nt a got 
near enough to singe my coat tail. I jumped through 
that wunder as easy as a bar ’ud go through a cane 
brake ; and cuss me if I could’nt hear the grit of old 
Jones’ teeth, and smell his glazed powder, until I crossed 
old Massissippi.” 


A “CAT” STORY, 

WHICH MUST NOT BE CCTR-TAILED. 

Ben Snaggletree seated himself in our society the 
other day, overburdened with a Mississippi yarn, which 
embraced one of his hair breadth ’scapes, and which he 
had resolved on relieving his memory of, by having it 
chronicled. 

Ben was an old Mississip’ roarer — none of your half 
and half, but just as native to the element, as if he had 
been born in a hroad horn. He said he had been 
fotched up on the river’s brink, and “ knew a snappin’ 
turtle from a snag, without lamin’.” 

“One night,” says Ben, “ about as dark as the face 
of Cain, and as unruly as if the elements had been untied, 
and let loose from their great Captain’s command, I 


A << CAT STORY. 


65 


was on the old Mississippi ; it was, in short, a night-ugly 
enough to make any natural born Christian think of his 
prayers, and a few converted saints tremble — I walked 
out upon the steam boat < guard’ to cool off from the 
effects of considerable liquor doin’s, participated in 
during the day, but had scacely reached the side of the 
boat, when she struck a snag, and made a lurch, throw- 
ing me about six feet into the drink, I was sufficiently 
cool, stranger^ when I came to the surface, but I had 
nigh, in a short time, set the Mississippi a hilin\ ray 
carcase grew so hot with wrath at observing the old boat 
wending her way up stream, unhurt, while I, solitary, 
unobserved, and alone, was floating on the old father of 
waters. I swam to the head of a small island, some 
distance below where w^e struck, and no sooner touched 
ground than I made an effort to stand erect. You may 
judge of my horror on discovering my landing place 
to be a Mississippi mud-bar^ and about as firm as quick- 
sand, into which I sunk about three feet in a moment. 

All was dark as a stack of black cats — no object 
visible save the lights of the receding boat — no sound 
smote upon the ear but the lessening blow of the ’scape 
pipe, and the plashing of the surrounding waters ; — the 
first sounded like the farewell voice of hope, while the 
latter, in its plashing and purling, was like to the jab- 
bering of evil spirits, exulting over an entrapped victim. 

‘‘ I attempted to struggle, but that sunk me faster. 
I cried out, but fancied that, too, forced me deeper into 
my yielding grave ; ere daylight dawned I felt sure of 
being out of sights and the horrid thought of thus sink- 
ing into eternity through a mud-gate^ made every hair 
stand ‘ on its owm hook,’ and forced my heart to patter 
against my ribs like a trip-hammer. I had been in many 
9 


66 


A cat” story. 


a scrape, but I considered this the nastiest, and made 
up my mind that the ball of yarn allotted to me was 
about being spun out — my cake was all mud ! I pro- 
mised old Mississippi, if permitted to escape this time, 
I would lick anythin’ human that said a word agin her; 
but it was no use — she was sure of me now, and, like 
old « bare bones’ to an expiring African, she held on, 
and deeper, and deeper I sunk. In a short time I w^as 
forced to elevate my chin to keep out of my mouth an 
over-supply of the temperance liquid, which was flowing 
so coaxingly about my lips. My eyebrows were starting, 
my teeth set, and hope had wasted to a misty shadow, 
when something touched me like a floating solid ; I in- 
stantly grasped it — it slid through my hands — all but 
the tail — which I clung to with a grip of iron. 

“I soon discovered I had made captive a mammoth 
catty ^ huge enough to be the patriarch of his tribe, and 
a set of resolutions were quickly adopted in my mind, 
that he couldn’t travel further without company. A 
desperate start and vigorous wiggle to escape was made 
by my friend, the catty ^ but there was six feet in length 
of desperation attached to his extremity, that could 
neither be coaxed or shook off. Soon succeeded an- 
other start, and out I came like a cork from a bottle. 
Off started the fish, like a comet, and after him I went, 
a muddy spark at the end of his tail. By a dexterous 
twist of his rudder, I succeeded in keeping him on the 
surface, and steered him to a solid landing, where I let 
him loose, and we shook ourselves, mutually pleased at 
parting company.” 

“That will do, Ben,” said we, “all but the fai7.” 

“ Tail and all, or none !” said Ben, so here you 
have it. Ben swears he’ll father it himself.” 


A SPIKITUAL SISTEK. 


HER ENCOUNTER WITH A DOUBTFUL SMITH 

“ There goes Smith, the Attorney said a man to 
his friend ; as a tall figure, slightly stooped, hurried by 
them. 

I beg your pardon,” answered the friend, “ that is 
the Rev. Mr. Smith, a preacher^ I have heard him in 
Tennessee.” 

“ Well that’s curious,” replied the first, “ for I’d 
swear I have heard him plead at the bar.” 

‘‘ Good morning Sol., how are you ?” salutes another, 
as he hurries by a group of citizens. 

<< What did you call him ?” inquired one of the party. 

“ Why, Sol. Smith, was the answer — old Sol., the 
manager of the theatre, to-be-sure ; who did you sup- 
pose it was } — I thought you knew him — every body 
knows old Soir 

<< Well that is funny,” answered the second, “for IHl 
swear he officiated as a physician on board our boat.” 

“Well who the d — 1 is he.^” 

This question was asked so frequently on board of a 
boat, recently, that those who didn’t know became 
quite feverish, and those who did, kept dark to watch 
for a joke. Sol. had purchased a new hat — venerably 
broad in brim, of saintly and unostentatious height in 
crown, and it was easy to see that this new beaver was 
brewing him trouble. We feel almost inclined here to 
go into a disquisition upon hats, and the evils they 
have entailed, for who has not suffered, and been 

67 


68 


A SPIRITUAL SISTER. 


thrust out of the pale of good living, or cut in the 
street — or taken for a loafer, and asked by some dandy 
to hold his horse, or by some matron to carry home 
her market basket, and all because of a ‘‘ shocking bad 
hat.” An “ old hat’’ is, in fact, dangerous — so is a new 
one of a peculiar shape — so was Sol.’s broad brimmer. 

On board the steamer was a Mormon sister, on her 
way from down east to the holy city of Nauvoo, and 
many and anxious were her inquiries if any brother of 
the church was on board? None were able to inform 
her. At length the captain, at table, inquired : 

Shall I help you to a little of this roast beef, Mr. 
Smith?” 

Thank you, a small piece,” was the reply. 

Smith,” said the sister, “ Smithy that’s a member, 
jest as shure as shutin’ ; I’ll get interduced tu him arter 
a spell, and I reckon he’ll turn eout tu be a shure 
enough brother.” 

“ Arter a spell” she did, through the kindness of the 
captain, get an introduction to him, and was previously 
informed by the commander, that Sol. was not only a 
shure enough Mormon, but an elder — in fact a Smith ! 
Sol., as usual, was courteous and affable as when intro- 
duced to little Vic., at the court of St. James, and the 
sister was “ tickled all tu death” at the idea of falling 
in with so pleasant an elder. She was a little ancient, 
but buxom, and Sol. felt flattered by her singling him 
out for an acquaintance. 

‘‘ I’d a know’d in a minit that you was a member of 
the church by your countenance and your haty Brother 
Smith, you do look so saintly.” 

“Yes, Ma’m,” answered he, “most people take me 
for a member.” 


A SPIRITUAL SISTER. 


69 


‘‘There’s ony one thing, Brother Smith, which appears 
rayther queer about our church,” said she, looking mo- 
destly at Sol., and biting the corner of her handkerchief, 
“ and that’s the ‘ new system’ they have interduced.” 

“Why, yes, — y-e-s,” said Sol., at fault, “‘new 
systems’ do trouble the church a good deal.” 

“ Law, Brother Smith, do you think the ‘ speritual 
system’ a trouble 

“Well, no, not exactly, if it’s a good spiritual 
teaching,” answered he, “ it’s only the false doctrines 
that are evil.” 

“ Well, that’s jest what Elder Adams sed down in 
eour parts, and he ses that it was speritually revealed tu 
the Prophet Joseph, your brother, and I was jest a 
thinkin’,” and here she spread her handkerchief over 
her face, and twisted her head to one side, — “I was a 
thinkin’ if you hadn’t chosen a — he-he-he ! — a sister. 
why,” 

“ We’re at a landing, Ma’m, excuse me for a mo- 
ment,” and off shot Sol. to his state room, where he 
seized a pair of well worn saddle-bags, and his old hat, 
which he had thus far carried with him, intending to 
have it brushed up, and started for the gang-way plank. 
The captain met him in his haste, and inquired where 
he was going } 

“ Why, captain,” says Sol., “ I like your boat vastly, 
and you know I like you, but there might be a ‘ blow 
up’ if I stayed on board much longer.” 

“ Explain,” says the captain. 

“ Why, the fact is,” said Sol., “ that lady you intro- 
duced me to has taken me for the Mormon Smith ; now. 
I’m a good many Smith’s when my family and titles 


70 


HOSS allen’s apology. 


are all collected, but I aint that Smith! Just tell her so 
for me, and give her my ‘ old hat’ — it’s the best I can 
do for her.’’ We needn’t add that Brother Smith was 
straightway among the missing! 


HOSS ALLEN’S APOLOGY; 

OR, THE candidate’s NIGHT IN A MUSQUITO SWAMP ! 

“Well, old fellow, you’re a hoss is a western ex- 
pression, which has grown into a truism as regards 
Judge Allen, and a finer specimen of a w^estern judge, 
to use his constituents’ language, “ aint no whar,” for, 
besides being a sound jurist, he is a great wag, and 
the best practical joker within the circuit of six states. 
Among the wolf-scalp hunters of the western border of 
Missouri, Judge, or, as they more familiarly style him, 
Hoss Allen is all powerful popular, and the “ bar’’ 
hunters of the southern section equally admire his free 
and easy manners — they consider him one of the people 
— none of your stuck-up imported chaps from the dandy 
states, but a real genuine westerner — in short, a hoss ! 
Some of the Judge’s admirers prevailed upon him, re- 
cently, to stand a canvass for the gubernatorial chair, in 
which he had Judge Edwards for an antagonist, and 
many are the rich jokes told of their political encounters. 
A marked difference characterizes the two men, and 
more striking opposites in disposition and demeanor 
would be hard to find, Edwards being slow, dignified, 
and methodical, while Hoss tosses dignity-to the w’inds, 
ana comes right down to a free and easy familiarity 
witn the “boys.” Hoss Allen counted strong on the 


Hoss Allen’s apology. 71 

border counties, while his antagonist built his hopes on 
the centre. 

Allen and Edwards had travelled together for a 
number of days, explaining their separate views upon 
state government, at each regular place of appointment, 
and were now nearing the southern part of the state, 
a section where Hoss had filled the judgeship with great 
unction. Here he resolved to spring a joke upon his 
antagonist, which would set the south laughing at him, 
and most effectually insure his defeat among the 6ar 
hunters. He had been maturing a plan, as they jour- 
neyed together, and now having stopped for the night 
about one day’s journey from the town of Benton, one 
of their places of appointment, and the head quarters of 
the most influential men of the bar section, Hoss pro- 
ceeded to put his trick in progress of execution. He 
held a secret conference, at the stable, with the boy 
who took his horse, and offered him a dollar to take a 
messaofe that nigfht to Tom Walters, at the forks lead- 
ing to Benton. The boy agreed, and Hoss penciled a 
note describing his antagonist, who was unknown in 
the south of the state, coupled with an earnest request, 
that he ‘‘ would keep a look out for Judge Eddards, 
and by all means be careful not to let him get into that 
cussed cedar swamp His express was faithful, and jn 
due time Tom received the missive. In the meantime, 
the victim, Edwards, in a sweet state of confidence, 
was unbending his dignity at hearing Hoss relate to 
their host his amusing yarns about the early settlers. 
Having talked all the household into a merry mood, he 
proposed turning in for the night, but first offered his 
service to unlace the girls’ corsets, and in an under- 
breath asked the old woman to elope with him in the 


72 HOlS ALLEN ’s APOLOGY. 

morning— -Edwards blushed at this, the girls tittered, 
and the host and his wife said, he was a “ raal hossV^ 
— Allen acknowledged he was a leetle inclined that way, 
and as he had had his feed^ he now wanted his straw. 

In the morning Hoss Allen became ‘‘dreadful poorly,” 
and it was with great difficulty he could be prevailed 
upon to get up. All were sympathising with his afflic- 
tion, and the matron of the house boiled him some hot 
“ sass-tea,” which, the old man said, relieved him 
mightily. Judge Edwards assured Hoss, that it would 
be necessary for him to lay up for a day or two, and 
the afflicted candidate signified the same, himself. Be- 
fore they parted Hoss requested Edwards, as he had the 
whole field to himself, not to be too hard upon him. 
His antagonist promised to spare him, but chuckled all 
the while at having a clear field in Allen’s most popular 
district. Shaking the old Hoss by the hand, as they 
were about to separate, he remarked — “ w^e will meet 
at Benton, I hope, in different trim, Friend Allen.” 
They did meet in different tnniy but Edwards little 
dreamed the particular kind of trim he would appear in. 
As soon as Judge Edwards was fairly started, it was sur- 
prising the rapid change which took place in his antagonist 
— Hoss’ eye lit up, a broad grin spread over his features, 
and pulling off the handkerchief, wffiich was tied around 
his head, he twirled it above him like a flag, then stuffed 
it in his pocket, remarking coolly, ‘at the same time, — 
“ well, that thar swamp, jest at this season, is awful ! ” 
His express reported himself after his night ride, assured 
Allen that all was 0. K., and received his dollar for 
delivering the message, upon receiving which intelli- 
gence, Allen seated himself quietly and comfortably ai 
his coffee, and imbibed it with a relish that drove the 
idea of sickness into a hopeless decline. 


Hoss Allen’s apology. 


73 


Judge Edwards rapidly progressed on his way, highly 
gratified at having his opponent off in this part of the 
field, and as he, in this happy mood, journeyed onwards 
he set his brain to work conning a most powerful speech, 
one that would knock the sand from under Hoss, and 
leave him in a state of sprawling defeat. He resolved 
to sweep the south, from that point, like a prairie fire. 
About noon, or perhaps an hour after, he arrived at 
Tom Walters’ for dinner, and while it was preparing, 
inquired how far he was from Benton ^ 

“I’ve an idea,” said Tom, “you’re well onto nine 
miles frum thar — jest an easy arternoon ride.” 

This was highly satisfactory to the Judge, and per- 
ceiving that the provender preparing was of alike pleas- 
ing character, he spread himself back upon a hickory 
bottomed chair with a kind of ea^sy dignity, at once 
comfortable to himself, and edifying to his host. 

“Stranger,” inquired Tom, “ did you scare up any- 
thin’ like the two candidates, Jedge Eddards and old 
Hoss Allen, on your way down yeurV* 

“ I did see something of them, my friend,” answered 
the Judge, and then, as if making up his mind to surprise 
Tom, and give him a striking example of democratic 
condescension, he inquired, “ would you know either 
of the gentlemen, if they stood before you?” 

“Why, as to old Hoss,” said Tom, “ I don’t know 
anybody else, but tMs new Jedge I ain’t never seed, 
and ef he is the slicked up finefied sort on a character 
they pictur’ him, I don’t want to see him — Its my opi- 
nion, these squirtish kind a fellars ain’t perticular hard 
baked, and they allers goes in fur aristocracy notions.” 

The Judge had no idea that Tom was smoking him, 
and he congratulated himself that an opportunity here 


74 


HOSS allen’s apology. 


presented itself, where he could remove a wrong im- 
pression personally ; so, loftily viewdng this southern 
constituent, be remarked : 

‘‘You have heard a calumny, my friend, for Judge 
Edwards now sits before you, and you can see whether 
his appearance denotes such a person as you describe.’’ 

“No!” shouted Tom, with mock surprise, “you 
aint ' cornin’ a hoax over a fellar ? — you raally are the 
sure enough Jedge ?” 

“ I am really the Judge, my friend,” responded his 
honor, highly elevated with Tom’s astonishment. 

“ Then gin us your paw,” shouted Tom, “ you’re 
jest the lookin’ fellar kin sweep these yeur diggins like 
a catamount 1 What in the yearth did you do with old 
Hoss on the road ? I heerd he was a cornin’ along with 
you. He aint gin out, has he?” 

The Judge replied, with a smile which expressed 
disparagement of Hoss Allen’s powers of endurance, 
that he was forced to lie up on the route, from fa- 
tigue. Dinner being announced as ready the Judge and 
Tom seated themselves, and the latter highly expanded 
his guest’s prospects in the district, assuring him that he 
could lick Hoss “powerful easy, ef he wasn’t broken 
winded.” The meal being ended, the Judge demanded 
his horse, and inquired of his host the direct road to 
Benton, which Tom thus mapped out : — 

“ Arter you pass the big walnut, about two miles 
from yeur, keep it a mile on your left, and take the 
right trail fur about six hundred yards, when you’ll 
cum to the ‘ saplin acre,’ thar you keep to the right 
agin, and when that trail fetches you up, why right 
over from thar lies Benton.” 

This w’as a very clear direction to one who had never 


HOSS allen’s apology. 


75 


before travelled the road, but the Judge, trusting to 
luck, said, <‘he thought he would be able to get there 
without much difficulty,” and started off, leaving his 
late entertainer gazing after him. 

Well, I allow you will, Jedge,” chuckled Tom, — 
“ You’ll git inter that swampy jest as sure as shootin’, 
and you’ll hev the biggest and hungryest audience of 
mosquitors, ever a candidate preached law or lamin’ 
to !” To secure his finding the swamp road, he had 
stationed his boy Jim near the turn off, to make the 
matter sure. 

In the course of a couple of hours along came Hoss 
Allen, who, as soon as Tom took hold of his bridle, 
winked his eye at him while he inquired : — 

‘‘ Did Jedge Eddards come along, Tom ?” 

Well, he did^ Hoss, oncommon extensive in his 
political feelins’.” 

“ And you didn’t let the Jedge stray away from the 
swamp road inquired Hoss. 

Well, I predicate I didn’t, fur by this time he’s 
travellin’ into the diggins most amazin’ innocently,” 
and then the pair enjoyed a regular guffaw ! 

«« He’s safe as a skin’d 5ar, then, Tom, and I’ll 
spread his hide afore the Benton boys to-morrow — ^jest 
let them into the joke, and I allow, after that, his dan- 
dified aristocracy speeches won’t have much effect in 
this section. 

‘‘Go it, Jedge,” shouted Tom, “ef I ain’t thar to 
hear it, it’ll be ’cause the breath’ll leave me afore then 
— gin him goss without sweeten’ — rumple his har, but 
don’t spile the varmint !” 

After Hoss had stayed his stomach with a cold bite, 
he bade Tom good-day, and started for Benton, highly 


76 HOSS allen’s apology. 

tickled with the success of his trick. As he neared the 
“ saplin acre,” he met Jim, who exhibited a full spread 
of his ivories, when Hoss inquired which road he had 
directed the gentleman before him ? 

He gone into de swamp road, massa, but what de 
debil he want dar, ’cept he arter coon skins, dis niggah 
doesn’t hab no idear, whatsomedeber.” 

Allen passed on, assured that all was right, and as his 
horse leisurely ambled forward, he broke into singing 
a verse of a w^estern ditty, which says : — 

“ Thar aint throughout this western nation, 

Another like old Hickory 
He was born jest fur his siteation — 

A bold leader of the free.*’ 

As night spread her curtain over this wild district, 
Hoss neared Benton, and as his nag jogged up the 
principal street, he broke out into a louder strain, re- 
peating the above verse, on hearing which, the “ boys,” 
who were expecting him and Edwards, turned out, and 
old Hoss was received with a cheer. 

‘‘Hello, Jedge ! — How are you. Old Hoss? — Give 
us your paw. Governor! — Here at last. Squire !” — and 
sundry such expressions of familiar welcome was show- 
ered on Allen, by the crowd “ Come in, and git a 
drink, old fellar,” shouted one of the crowd, and forth- 
with all hands pushed for the hotel bar room, where 
sweetened corn juice was pushed about with vast libe- 
rality — at the candidate^ expense, of course. 

“ Whar did you leave the new fellar, Jedge Ed- 
dards?” was the general inquiry. 

“ Why, boys, I stopped to rest on the road, and he 
slid off to git ahead of me — I heered on him at th*^ 


HOSS ALLEN S APOLOGY. 


77 


forks, and expected he was -here. It’s my opinion, 
boys, he’s seen a bar on the road, and bein’ too delicate 
to make the varmint clar the path, he’s taken a long 
circuit round him !” 

This raised a laugh among the crowd, and it was 
followed up by general inquiries as to what Edwards 
looked like, but to these Hoss shook his head, remark- 
ing, as he raised his hands expressive of how they 
would be astonished — ‘‘jest wait tell you see him 
yourselves, boys, and then you’ll be satisfied.” 

Let us return to Judge Edwards, who had easily 
found his way past the “ sapling acre,” and by the aid of 
Jim’s direction progressed into the swamp road, as easy 
as if it were his destination. Having travelled, as he 
thought, about ten miles, he began to look out for 
Benton, and every now and then uttered an expression 
of surprise, that they had located the town in such a 
swampy country — every rod he progressed became 
more and more obscure, the brush more thick and wild 
in growth, and the ground more moist and yielding. 
Night, too, that season for the rendezvous of underbrush 
and tangle-wood horrors, was fast gathering its forces 
in the depths of the forest, and beneath the shadows of 
the thick bushes, shrouding, as with a dark mist, each 
object on the earth’s surface, creeping up the trunks of 
the old trees, and noiselessly stealing away the light in 
which they had proudly spread their green foliage, while 
in lieu of their showy garb he clad them in a temporary 
mourning. The song of the birds became hushed, 
while the cry of the startled wolf \N2iS borne upon the 
breeze to the ear of the affrighted traveller, interrupted 
occasionally by the sharp of the wild-cat, 

making together a vocal concert -s': unharmonious to 


78 


HOSS allen’s apology. 


the ear of the bewildered candidate. To sum up these 
horrors a myriad of mosquitoes, as musical as hunger 
and vigorous constitutions could make them, hummed 
and fi-z-z-zed around him, darting in their stings and 
darting aw-ay from his annoyed blows, with a pertinacity 
and perseverance only known to the Missouri tribe of 
insects. 

Poor Edwards! — he was fairly in for it — into a swamp 
at that ! — Night was fast making all roads alike obscure, 
and with amazing rapidity covering our traveller in a 
mantle of uncertainty. The possibility of his escape 
that night first became improbable, and then impossible. 
He hallooed at the highest pitch of his voice, but the 
wolf w'as the only live varmint that answ'ered his cry, 
and a strange fear began to creep over his heart. He 
remembered well reading accounts of where hungry 
droves of these animals had eaten the horse from under 
the saddle, the rider upon it, bones, hide, har and all, 
leaving scarce a vestige of the victims to mark the deed, 
and his hair grew uneasy on his craniuni at the bare 
thought of such an unpolitical termination to his can- 
vass. At this particular moment a yell, as of a thousand 
devils in his immediate neighbourhood, set his heart 
knocking against his ribs in a fearful manner. When 
he partially recovered from the shock he tied his horse 
to one tree and quickly mounted another — w’hispering 
the hope to his heart, at the same time, that a meal on 
his horse w'ould satisfy the gathering crowd of varmints, 
w ho were shouting their death song below^ him. Having 
seated himself astride a limb, the mosquitoes had a fair 
chance at him, and they put the Judge through as active 
an exercise as ever was inflicted on a recruit — there 
w^as this difference, liow’ever, between him and a recruit. 


HOSS ALLEN S APOLOGY. 


79 


they are generally raw at the commencement ot a drill, 
but poor Edwards was most raw at the end of his lesson. 
Every new yell of the swamp pre-emptioners, made him 
climb a limb higher, and each progression upwards ap- 
peared to introduce him to a fresh and hungrier com- 
pany of mosquitoes — the trees in the swamp were like 
the dwellings in Paris, their highest tenants were the 
most needy. Day at length broke, and our harassed 
candidate, almost exhausted, clambered from his exalted 
position. His frightened but unscathed steed uttered 
a neigh of welcome as he bestrode him, and giviiig 
loose to the rein he committed his escape to the animal’s 
sagacity, while he aided his efforts by a devout suppli- 
cation. Accident favored the horse’s footsteps, for 
striking the trail leading to the road he started off into 
a trot, and soon broke his rider’s spell of terror, by 
turning into the main avenue leading to Benton. 
Edwards slowly passed his pimpled hand over his 
worse pimpled face, sadly remarking: — 

Last night’s ‘ hills^ all passed, for I bear their sting- 
ing signatures all over my countenance.” 

When ten o’clock came, on the day following Judge 
Allen’s arrival at Benton, the town swarmed with the 
southern constituency of Missouri, and as soon as the 
tavern bell, which had been put in requisition to announce 
the candidate’s readiness, had ceased its clamor, Hoss 
mounted the balcony of the hotel, and rolling up his 
sleeves ‘‘ spread himself” for an unusually brilliant 
effort. 

‘‘Boys!” shouted he, “I want your attention to 
matters of vital import — of oncommon moment, and 
replete with a nation’s wel/ar.” [Here looking down 
into the crowd at Sam Wilson, who was talking as loud 


so 


Hoss Allen’s apology. 


as he could bellow, about an imported heifer he had 
just bought, Hoss called his attention :] “ Sam,” said 
he, you’d better bring that heifer of your’n up here to 
address the meetin’, and I’ll wait till the animal gits 
through!” This raised a laugh on Sam, and Hoss pro- 
ceeded. After dilating at some length on the imported 
candidate who was his antagonist, he ^^let himself out 
on some of the measures he advocated, and particularly 
dwelt on the fact that he went in for creating a license 
law on hunting varmints! 

Would you have the least mite of an idea, boys,” 
said Hoss, that this creatur’ of a faction wants to have 
every man’s rifle stamped with the state arms, and then 
made pay a license to the state before he can git a 
bonus for wolf scalps.” [At this moment a shrill voice 
interrupted him again — a girl belonging to the hotel 
was shouting to a couple of youngsters, who had been 
despatched to the barn for eggs, to << quit suc1du'‘ them 
thar eggs or the candidates would stand a mighty small 
chance furthur dinner.] ‘‘ Jest tell that gall,” said Hoss, 
“ to suck my share and stop her screamin’.” He 
again continued: ‘‘I want to know what in yearth this 
Massissippi country’s cornin’ too, when sich fellars finds 
favor with the people — what do you think of him boys?” 

Why, (MSS his pictur was the general response 
from the bar hunters. 

While Hoss was thus arousing public indignation 
against his antagonist, a stranger entered the crowd, 
and after listening a moment to the speaker’s imaginary 
flights he interrupted him by shouting : — 

I deny your assertions, Judge Allen!” 

This was a bomb shell, and the crow’d cleared a 
space round the stranger, in expectation of a fight ; but 


Hoss Allen’s apology. 


81 


Allen after surveying the stranger, in whom he recog- 
nised his antagonist Edwards, coolly inquired why he 
disputed it.^ 

‘‘What, me/” shouted Edwards, “who can better 
declare your assertions false than the man you are mis- 
representing — you know very well that I am that Judge 
Edwards!” 

Hoss Allen turned calmly round to the crowd and 
said : — “ Boys, you know I never git angry at a man 
insane or in liquor, and as I don’t know this fellar, and 
never seed him afore in my life, its the best proof that 
he aint Jedge Eddards, so you’ll oblige me by taking 
him off the ground and keeping him from disturbing the 
meeting.” 

Expostulation was useless — without any ceremony he 
was carried into the hotel, boiling with indignation. 
'J’here, however, he had to stay, at a convenient dis- 
tance to hear that Allen was giving him particular 
jme.” 

After the meeting adjourned three cheers were given 
for Hoss Allen, and all parties gathered into the bar to 
take a little fluid, and discuss the speech. Edwards 
having now been relieved from durance, started for 
Hoss ; — burning inside with choler and smarting ex- 
teriorly from mosquito-bites, — he looked bitter. 

“Do you say you don’t know me, Judge Allen 
inquired he. 

Hoss looked steadily at him, then coolly taking out 
his spectacles, he wiped the glasses, adjusted them 
upon his nose, and surveyed the questioner from head 
to foot, he then remarked : 

“ Thar is somethin’ about your voice, and the clothes 
you ware, that I ought to know — Jedge Eddards wore a 
II 


82 


BOSS ALLEN S APOLOGY. 


coat and kerseys exactly like your’n, but I’ll swar he 
had a better lookin’ face than you carry when we parted 
yesterday mornin’. If you are him you’re been the wust 
used candidate I’ve seed in an age.” 

Yes,” responded Edw'ards, “ thanks to that d — n 
nigger that sent me into the sw^amp. I tell you sir that 
I have passed a night to which the infernal regions are 
a scant pattern, and between mosquitoes, wolves, and 
wild-cats I should not be surprised if my hair had 
turned grey.” 

“ I begin to re-cognise you, now, Jedge,” said Hoss, 
in a sympathetic tone, << and no wonder I didn’t know 
you at first sight — your head is sw^elled as big as a 
pumkin! I’ll do the clean thing, Jedge,” said Hoss, 
starting for the balcony. I’ll apologise afore the boys, 
publicly, for not knowin’ you.” 

“No, no !” shouted Edw^ards, w^ho knew his apology 
would only place his night’s adventure in a more ridi- 
culous light, “I don’t demand any apology.” But he 
was too late, Hoss had already called the attention of 
the crowd. 

“ Boys,” said he, “ as an honourable man who finds 
himself in the WTong, I am bound to apologise, pub- 
licly, to my friend Jedge Eddards, — the Jedge is a 
leetle changed in appearance since we wur last together, 
and I did not rg-cognise him ; I, tharfore, ask his par- 
don fur orderin’ him oflf the ground.” 

“I grant it!” shouted Edwards, glad here to wind 
up the apology, then turning round he added, “ come 
boys, let us drink good friends.” 

“Waitaminit, boys,” said Hoss, “the Jedge and 
I havin’ smoothed that little marter over, I jest want to 
tell you why I didn’t know him at fust sight. You all 


NATURAL ACTING. 


S3 


know that the mosquitoes in cedar swamp are an orefal 
hungry breed, and when they git a passenger they pre- 
sent him with numerous ‘ relief bills well I had gained 
considerable popularity in that swamp, by presentin’ 
their condition before the legislatur’ and askin’ for reliet 
for the distressed inhabitants, — the Jedge, to head me 
down thar, passed all last night on a limb of one of the 
trees makin’ stump speeches to the varmints, and you 
can see by his countenance that expectin’ to be elected 
he has accepted all their mosquito bills 

One tremendous shout rent the air, followed by bursts 
of laughter, from which Edwards retreated into the hotel. 
We have but to add that Hoss carried the Bar counties 
as easy as rolling off a log!” His antagonist in vain 
tried to stem the tide of fun, — when he essayed to speak 
a m-e-o-w of a wild-cat or the hum of a mosquito imita- 
ted by some of his audience would be sure to set the 
rest sniggering^ and spoil his effort. 


NATURAL ACTING! 

DAN marble’s first APPEARANCE AT 
GRAND RIVER, MICHIGAN. 

Several years since our friend Dan Marble, the 
celebrated representative of Yankee characters, was per- 
forming an engagement at Detroit, and was persuaded 
by some friends to take a trip to Chicago, and give 
them a taste of his quality in the lake city. Dan con- 
sented, and on board of the good steamer Constitution, 
commanded by a skilful captain, under the care of 
Doty, one of the best lake engineers, and piloted by 


84 


NATURAL ACTING. 


Gus. McKinstry, they set out in the fall of the year for 
their northern destination. All went “ merry as a mar- 
riage bell they had a successful trip up, — Dan. had 
a successful engagement — and back they started for 
Detroit. But now the elements became rebellious ; 
whether rude Boreas resolved to keep this favorite son 
of Momus up there in his northern home, we know not, 
but when the vessel that bore his fortunes — his own 
comical self — had nearly reached the head of the lake, 
against a head wind that would almost tear off a shirt 
collar, they run out of wood, and was forced to scud 
back to Milw^aukee a “ leetle dust faster than they 
wanted tu.” They loaded up with the fuel again, and 
shutting their teeth with determination, they fastened tight 
the safety valve, and tried it again right in the teeth of 
the hurricane. After puffing, and blowing, and wheezing, 
and coughing, the old boat had to give in, and hunt a 
harbor. Fate drove them into Grand River — we say, 
Fate did it, in order, as we think, to keep up the cha- 
racter of ?i grand stream by opening a dramatic temple on 
its banks, with an exhibition of the budding greatness 
of a genius. Fate, you know, has the ordering of such 
things. 

The noble steamer came to anchor in the quiet river, 
between its towering sand banks, and old ‘‘ blow hard” 
tossed the lake wave on the outside, top-mast high, with 
glee, at having penned Dan. Down came an inhabitant 
of the town of Grand River, who had seen Dan. perform 
at Buffalo, and recognising him, up he posted to spread 
the news. In the meantime, those on board were won- 
dering how they should pass the weary hours, if the 
fierce wind continued its fury. Presently, down comes 
another resident to the boat, a small cat-sldn cap on his 


NATURAL ACTING. 85 

head, a Canada-mixed coat on, and dressed in deerskin 
breeches. 

Whar is he 9 — which is him 9 — consarn his comic 
pictur, show him out — ha-ha-ha !” 

« Who are you lookin’ after, Mister ?” inquired the 
pilot. 

‘‘ Why Dan — corn twist him — Dan Marble, to be 
sure.” 

“ Well, here I am, old fellar,” answered the pilot, 
“ take a look at me !” The pilot w’eighed about two 
hundred and twenty-two pounds, and had on an old 
sou-w^ester tarpaulin. Back stepped the inhabitant of 
Grand River, as if to get a good look, and take in all 
his dimensions at one stare. Gus, the pilot, made a 
\tty face at his cat-skin observer, and out he burst : 

“ Ha-ha-ha ! — ho-ho-ho ! — he-he-he ! — cuss me ef 
you ain’t jest as I heerd on you — w^e’ve got you, have 
w’e } ha-ha-ha ! — stop till I go and get the fellars, and 
by grist mills you’ll have to gin us a playin’ !” and 
forthwith off started the cat-skin cap and deer-skin 
breeches, their owmer pausing every hundred yards to 
ejaculate — 

“ Ha-ha ! — we’ve got him !” 

In a short time he returned, sure enough, and half 
the town with him. A number of the business men of 
the place waited upon Dan, proper, and requested that 
he w^ould amuse them, and pass away his owm time, by 
relating some of his Yankee stories, singing songs, &c., 
tendering him, at the same time, the second story of a 
storehouse for his theatre. Dan consented, and al’ 
hands on board entering into the spirit of the thing, 
they soon constructed a temporary stage, with a sail 
for a back scene and the American flag for a curtain 


86 


^A1URAL ACTING. 


Night came, and with its shadows came the inhabitants 
of the town of Grand River — the owmer of the cat-skin 
cap and his party, among the number. 

In order to make his performance varied, Dan made 
arrangements to produce the skunk scene, from the 
“ Water Witch and drilled Doty, the engineer, Giis, 
the pilot, the clerk of the boat, and the mate, to perform 
the English sailors in the scene. It will be remembered 
by those who have witnessed it, that they catch the 
Yankee just as he has killed a skunk, and are about to 
press him as a sailor; he persuades them to see a spe- 
cimen of his shooting — they stick up the dead animal as 
a mark, and while he gets their attention upon the object 
in one direction, he retreats in the other, showing off in 
his exit a specimen of “tall wmlking.” After consi- 
derable drilling his assistants were pronounced perfect ; 
but the pilot swore that, to play an English sailor, he 
must get disguised, so accordingly he primed with a 
double quantity of grog. His associates, jealous of his 
natural acting, say he had to get drunk before he could 
look at the audience. Up went the curtain, and on went 
Dan; of course the audience were amused — they 
couldn’t help it; but cat-skin looked in vain for his 
Dan. At length the skunk scene opened, and on came 
the pilot at the head of his party. The deer-skin 
breeches could hardly hold their owner; he ha-ha’d 
and ho-ho’d as if he would go into fits. Gus clapped 
his eye upon him, and screwed up his face into as many 
lines as a map, which finished the effect with cat-skin — 
he rolled off his seat, almost convulsed. Now com- 
menced the scene with Yankee Dan, and when he told 
Gus to stoop down and watch his shot, it was with 
considerable difficulty that the pilot balanced himself in 


A CANAL ADVENTURE, 


S7 


any such position. While they were stooping, off 
started Dan in their rear, and, to keep up the scene, off 
they started in pursuit; Dan, according to plot, hid 
behind the r. h. wing, front — his pursuers should here 
pass him and cross the stage, allowing him, by a Yankee 
trick, to escape ; but that portion of the plot Gus, the 
pilot, had forgotten ; he, therefore, came to a dead halt 
and looked round for Dan; there he was, and out 
shouted Gus : “ Come out, old fellar — I see you !” 

Dan shook his head and signed for them to go on. 

No you don’t,” says the pilot ; we caught you 
fair, and Fm be d — d if you shan’t treat 

The effect was irresistible ; Dan had to give in, and 
the curtain dropped before a delighted audience — a 
collapsed pair of deer-skin breeches, and upon the first 
night of the drama in Grand River. The owner of the 
cat-skin cap and deer-skin breeches maintains, to this 
day, that the pilot was Dan Marble. 

“ Them other fellars,” says he, done pooty well, 
but any ’coon, wdth half an eye, could see that that fat 
fellar did the naturalest acting! 


A CANAL ADVENTURE, 

“Oh hapless our fate was, each one and all, 

For we were wreck-ed on the Erie Cana/,” 

Old Ballad, 

On an evening in the month of July, 1836, 1 embarked 
at Lockport, in company with some fourteen passen- 
gers, on board an Erie Canal packet, destined for Ro- 
chester. It will be remembered that this was during 


88 


A CANAL ADVENTURE. 


the great migrating period in the United States, when 
all nations and pursuits had representatives on our prin- 
cipal travelling routes. Our party was no sooner aboard 
than the bold captain” gave the word, the horses 
w’^ere got ‘‘ under weigh,” the feathers set, and all hands 
called to pick out their shelf — six foot-by-one conve- 
nience, suspended by cords — upon which they stowed 
away passengers for the night. Babel never heard a 
greater confusion of tongues than this call set wagging. 
But above them all was heard the silver tone of a tra- 
velling exquisite, piping out — 

I-aw am first, cap’en, really, — I claim pwior choice, 
I do, dem if I don’t.” 

Happening to be first on the register, it was accorded, 
and the captain suggested a locker berth, as the most 
comfortable. 

‘‘No! no! — dem, — beg you-a pawden, cap’en,” 
shouted the exquisite, “ some gwos, fat individual, 
might get on the-a upa shelf and bweak down, — I should 
be mangled howibly.” 

“ Be jabers, I’d like to hev the squazin of him, me- 
silf,” said a burly Irishman. 

“ They’d better spill a leettle smellin’ stuff on the 
pesky animal, or he’ll spile before mornin’,” chimed 
in a Yankee. 

After sundry remarks, at the exquisite’s expense, and 
considerable confusion, all were duly ticketed for the 
night, and commenced piling themselves away like 
pledges in a pawnbroker’s shop. Jonathan and the 
Irishman carelessly spread themselves upon a couple of 
long cane-bottomed settees, which occupied the centre 
of the cabin, and, in a very brief space of time, the 
company hushed into silence, save an occasional short 


A CANAL ADVENTURE. 


89 


blessing bestowed upon the short berths. When all 
appeared to have dropped into forgetfulness, the head 
of a way-passenger was thrust into the cabin entrance, 
with the inquiry — 

‘‘ Is there any berths here 

Sure,^ this is the gintlemen^s cabin,” answered the 
Irishman. 

‘‘Well, I want to know if there’s any berths here 
reiterated the inquirer. 

“ Divil a chance for wan here,” was the response ; 
“ don’t I tel] ye this is the gintlemeii^ s cabin 

This conversation partially aroused the sleepers, who 
inquired of the Emeralder what was the row } 

“ Some botherin’ docthur,” was the sleepily muttered 
reply. 

All soon again relapsed into quiet ; — snore began to 
answer snore, in “ high and boastful blowing , and I 
turned my back to the lamp for the purpose of making 
a somnolent effort, individually. After tossing and 
turning for some time, I found that the plentiful supper 
taken at Lockport had entered a veto against sleep for 
me, and every effort failed to accomplish more than a 
drowsy lethargy, which still left the Nenses partially 
awake. A strange bumping noise aided to keep me in 
this state, and I was labouring to assign a cause for the 
sound, when a voice distinctly cried out — 

“ It’s no use a pumpin’, captin’, and I won^t! She 
may sink and be dern^d 

The concluding part of this remark started my senses 
into activity, and, after an effort, I turned round on my 
foot-wide couch, and took a survey of my “ sleeping 
partners,” to observe how the voice had affected them ; 
but not a muscle moved — all were chorussing beauti- 


90 


A CANAL ADVENTURE. 


fully the lays of dream-land. The certainty of our 
“ sinking and be dern’d,” was soon apparent, for the 
light of the lamp, suspended from the ceiling of the 
cabin, soon began to be reflected from the floor — the 
waters were quietly stealing upon the unconscious 
sleepers. My first impulse was to sound the marm, but, 
fortunately, possessing a top shelf,” and conscious 
that we could sink but a few feet, I held my peace until 
the water should increase its depth, being sure of fun 
when I gave the signal. 

A pair of boots now commenced a very fair forward- 
two to a boot-jack which was busily engaged in exe- 
cuting a chassez before a nodding hat, — stockings were 
wriggling about, as if pleased with the fun, and, in a 
few minutes more, all was a scene of life among the 
sleepers’ unconsidered trifles” of wardrobe carelessly 
cast upon the floor. The water having reached within 
a few inches of the slumbering pair upon the cane-bot- 
tomed settees, I sounded the alarm, by shouting — 
‘‘Murder! boat’s sinking! hurrah! help!” Oft' tum- 
bled the Irishman and Yankee — splash — dash — flounder 
and exclamation ! 

“ Holy Virgin ! what’s this ?” inquired Pat. 

“ Cre-a-tion and the deluge !” shouted Jonathan 

“ Good gwacious !” piped in the dandy. 

Down hopped the tenants of the shelves, like bodies 
in a family vault at the general rising — up again they 
hopped, light as spirits and twice as natural, the instant 
their pedal extremities touched the water, 

“Take it coo/, gentlemen,” shouted a westerner, 
from a top berth, “ these are the canal extras. 

A lady, at this moment, parted the curtains- of their 
cabin — the Emeralder, with true gallantry, seized her 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


91 


In his arms, with a shout of Riscue the ladies !” and 
bore her out on deck. Jonathan, not to be outdone 
by a foreigner, stood ready for the second, but her 
weight (only two hundred pounds) put a stumper on 
his gallantry. Yankee ingenuity, however, overcame 
the difficulty, — ^by making a bridge of the cane settees, 
the ladies were safely conducted from their watery 
quarters. 

It w’as a funny scene on deck, that night, and little 
ceremony was observed in making a toilet. None, how- 
ever, seemed to take the matter seriously but the dandy — 
he had lost all his beautifying essentials, in the confusion, 
and was almost frightened to death at his hair-breadth 
’scape. Jonathan was offering him some crumbs of 
comfort, to induce him to make a purchase for his future 
safety. 

‘‘I’ll tell you what. Mister,” says Jonathan, “jest 
buy one of my everlastin’-no-drownin’-dry-and-water- 
tight-life-presarvers, and when you git it fixed rights 
it’ll keep you so dry you’ll have to sprinkle yourself to 
stick together. 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 

HIS EXCUSE FOR BEING A BACHELOR. 

At Buffalo Head, Nianga county, state of Missouri, 
during the canvass of 1844, there was held an extensive 
political Barbecue^ and the several candidates for con- 
gress, legislature, county offices, &c., were all con- 
gregated at this southern point for the purpose of making 
an' immense demonstration. Hards, softs, whigs and 


92 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


Tylerites were represented, and to hear their several 
expositions of state and general policy, a vast gathering 
of the Missouri sovereigns had also assembled. While 
the impatient candidates were awaiting the signal to 
mount the stump,” an odd-looking old man made his 
appearance at the brow of a small hill bounding the 
place of meeting. 

‘‘Hurrah for old Sugar P’ shouted an hundred 
voices, while on, steadily, progressed the object of the 
cheer. 

Sugar, as he was familiarly styled, was an old man, 
apparently about fifty years of age, and was clad in a 
coarse suit of brown linsey-woolsey. His pants were 
patched at each knee, and around the ankles they had 
worn off into picturesque points — his coat was not of 
the modern close-fitting cut, but hung in loose and easy 
folds upon his broad shoulders, while the total absence 
of buttons upon this garment, exhibited the owner’s con- 
tempt for the storm and the tempest. A coarse shirt, 
tied at the neck with a piece of twine, completed his 
body covering. His head was ornamented with an old 
woollen cap, of divers colors, below which beamed a 
broad, humorous countenance, flanked by a pair of short, 
funny little grey whiskers. A few wrinkles marked his 
brow, but time could not count them as sure chronicles 
of his progress, for Sugar^s hearty, sonorous laugh oft 
drove them from their hiding place. Across his shoulder 
was thrown a sack, in each end of which he was bearing 
to the scene of political action, a keg of bran new whiskey, 
of his own manufacture, and he strode forward on his 
moccason covered feet, encumbered as he was, with all 
the agility of youth. Sugar had long been the standing 
candidate of Nianga county, for the legislature, and 






THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


93 


founded his claim to the office upon the fact of his 
being the first “ squatter” in that county — his having 
killed the first bar there, ever killed by a white man, 
and, to place his right beyond cavil, he had ^stilled the 
first keg of whiskey ! These were strong claims, which 
urged in his comic rhyming manner would have swept 
the diggins,” but Sugar, when the canvass opened, 
always yielded his claim to some liberal purchaser of 
his fluid, and duly announced himself a candidate for 
the next term. 

“ Here you air, old fellar !” shouted an acquaintance, 

allays on hand ’bout ’lection.” 

‘‘Well, Nat.,” said Sugar, “you’ve jest told the 
truth as easy as ef you’d taken sum of my mixtur — 

‘ Whar politicians congregate, 

Fm allays thar, at any rate ” 

“Set him up! — set the old fellar up somewhar, and 
let us take a univarsal liquor!” was the general shout. 

“ Hold on, boys, — keep cool and shady,” said old 
Sugar, “ whar’s the candidates ? — none of your splurgin 
round till I git an appropriation fur the sperits. Send 
em along and we’ll negotiate fur the fluid, arter which I 
shall gin ’em my instructions, and they may then per- 
cede to 

‘Talk away like all cre-a-tion, 

What they knows about the nation.’ ” 

The candidates were accordingly summoned up to 
pay for Sugar^s portable grocery, and to please the 
crowd and gain the good opinion of the owner, they 
made up a purse and gathered round him. Sugar had 
placed his tw'o kegs upon a broad stump and seated 
himself astride of them, with a small tin cup in his hand 


94 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


and a paper containing brown sugar lying before him — 
each of his kegs was furnished with a spiggot, and as 
soon as the money for the whole contents was paid in, 
Sugar commenced addressing the crowd as follows : 

Boys, fellars, and candidates,” said he, ‘‘ I, Sugar, 
am the furst white man ever seed in these yeur diggins 
— I killed the furst har ever a white skinned in this 
county, and I kalkilate I hev hurt the feelings of his 
relations sum sence, as the bar-skin linin’ of my cabin 
will testify; — ’sides that, I’m the furst manufacturer of 
whiskey in the range of this district, and powerful mixtur’ 
it is, too, as the hull bilin’ of fellars in this crowd wdll 
declar’ ; — more’n that, I’m a candidate for the legislatur’, 
and intend to gin up my claim, this term, to the fellar 
who kin talk the pootyest ; — now, finally at the eend, 
boys, this mixtur’ of mine will make a fellar talk as iley 
as goose-grease, — as sharp as lightnin’j and as per- 
suadin’ as a young gal at a quiltin’, so don’t spar it 
while it lasts, and the candidates kin drink furst, ’cause 
they’ve got to do the talkin’ !” 

Having finished his charge he filled the tin cup full 
of whiskey, put in a handful of brown sugar, and with 
his forefinger stirred up the sweetening, then surveying 
the canditates he pulled off his cap, remarking, as he 
did so : 

Old age, allays, afore beauty! — your daddy furst, 
in course,” then holding up the cup he offered a toast, 
as follows: 

‘‘Here is to the string that binds the states; may it 
never be bit apart by political rats /” Then holding up 
the cup to his head he took a hearty swig, and passed 
it to the next oldest looking candidate. While they 
were tasting it. Sugar kept up a fire of lingo at them : 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


95 


“ Pass it along lively, gentle?7ien, but don’t spar the 
■fluid. You can’t help tellin’ truth arter you’ve swaller’d 
enough of my mixtur’, jest fur this reason, its ben ’stilled 
in honesty, rectified in truth, and poured out with wis- 
dom ! Take a leetle drop more,” said he to a fastidious 
candidate, whose stomach turned at thought of the way 
the ‘‘mixtur’” was mixed. “Why, Mister,” said 
Sugar, coaxingly. 

‘ Ef you wur a babby, jest new born, 

’Twould do you good, this juicy cornV^^ 

“ No more, I thank you,” said the candidate, draw- 
ing back from the proffer. 

“ Sugar winked his eye at some of his cronies, and 
muttered — “ He’s got an a-ristocracy stomach, and can’t 
go the native ticker . Then dismissing the candidates 
he shouted, — “ crowd up, constitoom^5, into a circle, 
and let’s begin fair — your daddy furst, allays ; and mind, 
no changin’ places in the circle to git the sugar in the 
bottom of the cup. I know you’re arter it Tom Wil- 
liams, but none on your yankeein’ round to git the 
sweetnin’ — it’s all syrup, fellars, cause Sugar mad« and 
mixed it. The gals at the frolicks allays git me to pre- 
par’ the cordials, ’cause they say I make it mity drink- 
able. Who next.^ What you, old Ben Dent! — Well, 
hold your boss for a minit, and I’ll strengthen the tin 
with a speck more, jest because you can kalkilate the 
valee of the licker, and do it jestiss!” 

Thus chatted Sugar as he measured out and sweetened 
up the contents of his kegs, until all who would drink 
had taken their share, and then the crowd assembled 
around the speakers. We need not say that the virtues 
of each political party were duly set forth to the hearers 


96 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


that follows as a matter of course, candidates dwell 
upon the strong points of their argument, always. One 
among them, however, more than his compeers, attracted 
the attention of our friend Sugar ^ not because he had 
highly commended the contents of his kegs, but be- 
cause he painted with truth and feeling the claims of the 
western .' Among these he ranked the veteran 
Col. Johnson and his compatriots, and as he rehearsed 
their struggles in defence of their firesides, how they 
had been trained to war by conflict with the ruthless 
savage, their homes oft desolated, and their children 
murdered, — yet still, ever foremost in the fight, and last 
to retreat, winning the heritage of these broad valleys 
for their children, against the opposing arm of the red 
man, though aided by the civilized power of mighty 
Britain, and her serried cohorts of trained soldiery! 
We say as he dwelt upon these themes Sugar'^s eye 
would fire up, and then, at some touching passage of 
distress dwelt upon by the speaker, tears would course 
down his rude cheek. When the speaker concluded he 
wiped his eyes with his hard hand, and said to those 
around him: — 

“ That arr true as the yearth! — thar’s suthin’ like talk 
in that fellar ! — he’s the right breed, and his old daddy 
has told him about them times. So did mine relate ’em 
to me, how the ony sister I ever had, when a babby 
had her brains dashed out by one of the red skinned 
devils! But didn’t we pepper them fur it? Didn’t 
I help the old man, afore he grew too weak to hold his 
shootin’ iron, to send a few on ’em off* to rub out the 
account? Well, I did! — Hey! and shutting his teeth 
together he yelled through them the exultation of full 
vengeance. 


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THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


97 


The speaking being done, candidates and hearers 
gathered around old Sugar, to hear his comments upon 
the speeches, and to many inquiries of how he liked 
them, the old man answered : — 

“ They were all pooty good, but that tall fellar they 
call Tom, from St. Louis ; you, I mean, stranger,"''^ 
pointing at the same time to the candidate, you jest 
scart up my feelin’s to the right pint — you jest made me 
feel wolfish as when I and old dad war arter the red 
varmints; and now what’ll you take.^ I’m goin’ to pub- 
licly c^ecline in your favor.” 

Pouring out a tin full of the liquor, and stirring it as 
before, he stood upright upon the stump, with a foot on 
each side of his kegs, and drawing off his cap, toasted : — 
“ The memory of the western piorieersT^ 

A shout responded to his toast, which echoed far 
away in the depths of the adjoining forest, and seemed 
to awaken a response from the spirits of those departed 
heroes. 

That’s the way to sing it out, boys,” responded 
old Sugar, sich a yell as that would scar an inimy 
into ager fits, and make the United States Eagle scream 
< Hail Columby.’ ” 

‘‘ While you’re up. Sugar , said one of the crowd, 
give us a stump speech, yourself.” 

“Bravo!” shouted an hundred voices, “a speech 
from Sugar. 

“Agreed, boys,” said the old man, “I’ll jest gin 
you a few words to wind up with, so keep quiet while 
your daddy’s talkin’ 

^Sum tell it out jest like a song, 

I’ll gin it to you sweet and strong.^ ** 

13 


98 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


The ony objection ever made to me in this arr count 
as a legislatur’, was made by the wimin, ’cause I war a 
bachelor^ and I never told you afore why I ?*e-mained in 
the state of number one — no fellar stays single j^re-me- 
ditated, and, in course, a hansum fellar like me, who 
all the gals declar’ to be as enticin’ as a jay bird, 
warn’t goin’ to stay alone, ef he could help it. I did 
see a creatur’ once, named Sofy Mason, up the Cum- 
berland, nigh onto Nashville, Tenne^ee, that I tuk an 
orful hankerin’ arter, and I sot in to lookin’ anxious fur 
martrimony, and gin to go reglar to meetin’, and tuk to 
dressin’ tremengeous finified, jest to see ef I could win 
her good opinion. She did git to lookin’ at me, and 
one day, cumin’ from meetin’, she was takin’ a look at 
me a kind of shy, jest as a boss does at suthin’ he’s 
scart at, when arter champin’ at a distance fur awhile, I 
sidled up to her and blarted out a few words about the 
sarmin’ — she said yes, but cuss me ef I know whether 
that wur the right answer or not, and I’m a thinkin’ she 
didn’t know then, nuther ! Well, we larfed and talked 
a leetle all the way along to her daddy’s, and thar I gin 
her the best bend I had in me, and raised my bran new 
hat as peert and perlite as a minister, lookin’ all the 
time so enticin’ that I sot the gal tremblin’. Her old 
daddy had a powerful numerous lot of healthy niggers, 
and lived right adjinin’ my place, while on tother side 
lived Jake Simons — a sneakin’, cute varmint, who war 
wusser than a miser fur stinginess, and no sooner did 
this cussed sarpint see me sidlin’ up to Sofy, than he 
went to slickin’ up, too, and sot himself to work to cut 
me out. That arr wur a struggle ekill to the battle of 
Orleans. Furst sum new fixup of Jake’s would take 
her eye, and then I’d sport suthin’ that would outshine 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


99 


nim, until Jake at last gin in tryin’ to outdress me, and 
sot to thinkin’ of suthin’ else. Our farms wur jest the 
same number of acres, and we both owned three nig- 
gers apiece. Jake knew that Sofy and her dad kept a 
sharp eye out fur the main chance, so he thort he’d clar 
me out by buyin’ another nigger; but I jest follor’d 
suit, and bought one the day arter he got his, so he had 
no advantage thar ; he then got a cow^ and so did I, 
and jest about then both on our pusses gin out. This 
put Jake to his wits’ eend, and I war a wunderin’ what 
in the yearth he would try next. We stood so, hip and 
thigh, fur about two weeks, both on us talkin’ sweet to 
Sofy, whenever we could git her alone. I thort I seed 
that Jake, the sneakin’ cuss, wur gittin’ a mite ahead of 
me, ’cause his tongue wur so iiey ; howsever, I didn’t 
let on, but kep a top eye on him. One Sunday mornin’ 
I wur a leetle mite late to meetin’, and when I got thar 
the furst thing I seed war Jake Simons, sittin’ close bang 
up 5gin Sofy, in the same pew with her daddy! I biled 
a spell with wrath, and then tamed sour ; I could taste 
myself! Thar they wur, singin’ himes out of the same 
book. Je-e-eminy, fellars, I war so enormous mad that 
the new silk handkercher round my neck lost its color! 
Arter meetin’ out they walked, linked arms, a smilin’ 
and lookin’ as pleased as a young couple at thar furs<- 
christenin’, and Sofy tamed her ‘ cold shoulder’ at me 
so orful pinted, that I wilted down, and gin up right 
straight — Jake had her, thar wur no disputin’ it! I 
headed toward home, with my hands as fur in my 
trowsers pockets as I could push ’em, swarin’ all the 
w'ay that she wur the last one would ever git a chance 
to rile up my feelin’s. Passin’ by Jake’s plantation I 
looked over the fence, and thar stood an explanation of 


100 


THE STANDING CANDIDATE. 


the marter, right facin’ the road, whar every one passin’ 
could see it — his consarned cow was tied to a stake in 
the gardin’, with a most promisin' calf alongside of her ! 
That calf jest soured rny milk, and made Sofy think, 
that a fellar who war allays gittin’ ahead like Jake, wur 
a right smart chance for a lively husband!” 

A shout of laughter here drowned Sugar's voice, and 
as soon as silence was restored he added, in a solemn 
tone, with one eye shut, and his forefinger pointing at 
his auditory: — 

What is a cussed sight wusser than his gittin’ Sofy 
war the fact, that he borrowed that calf the night before 
from Dick Harkley ! Arter the varmint got Sofy hitched, 
he told the joke all over the settlemeT?^, and the boys 
never seed me arterwards that they didn’t b-a-h at me 
fur lettin’ a caf cut me out of a gal’s aflfections. I’d 
a shot Jake, but I thort it war a free co intry, and the 
gal had a right to her choice without bein’ made a 
widdtM', so I jest sold out and travelled! I’ve alfays 
tliort sence then, boys, that wimin wur a good deal 
like licker, ef you love ’em too hard thar sure to throw 
you some way: 

‘Then here’s to wimin, then to ticker, 

Thar’s nuthin’ swimmin’ can be slicker!” 


AN EMIGRANT’S PERILS; 

OR, A FLYING TICKET ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 

The inexperienced dweller in a quiet home, who has 
never been tempted to wander from its peaceful pre- 
cincts, has but a faint idea of the emigrant’s troubles, 
and many may fail to deeply sympathise with Michael 
O’Reily, the subject of our sketch ; but there are those 
W'ho have mingled in the perilous tide, and can know- 
ingly speak of its dangers. ‘‘Maybe,” as Michael 
w^ould say, “ it’s mesilf that has had a full peck measure 
of thim, barrin’ what I injayneously iscaped.” 

Michael’s brother, Patrick, had induced him to quit 
the little cottage and pratie patch on the green sod, for 
a home where “ goold” flowed up the rivers. At the 
time we encountered him he had reached the spot where 
“ a great man intirely,” had prophesied this shiny metal 
would flow to, and he but w'aited to reach Patrick’s 
home on the Missouri river, to set a net in the stream 
and catch his share. As he and Mrs. O’R., who was 
well, but, naturally enough, “ wakely,” were seated on 
the boat, considering how they could get further up 
stream, a steamboat runner came to their aid, and forth- 
with made every necessary arrangement for taking them 
safe. Michael’s mind being at ease about that matter, 
he ventured to indulge in a whiff of the pipe, when he 
w'as accosted by another of the off-in-twenty-minutes 
agents. 

“ Passage up the Missouri, sir.^” inquires the runner. 

101 


102 


AN emigrant’s perils. 


<< Yis, Pm goin’ wid ye’s,” says Michael, «« sure wan 
uv your boys ingaged me a minnit ago.” 

The runner perceiving in a moment that a rival had 
encountered Michael, resolved to do the aforesaid rival 
out of his passenger, and accordingly hurried him off to 
his own boat, by telling him that steam was up! 

The done^^ runner, on returning and finding his 
passenger off, suspected that the rival boat had secured 
him, and ventured upon the ‘‘ terror experiment” to 
win him back. Michael instantly recognised his first 
friend, and saluted him with — 

Pm here, ye see !” 

“ Yes, but you’ve got yourself into a kingdom-come 
snarl, if you only know’d it, without half tryin’.” 

Twist the snarl which way Michael would, it sounded 
unpleasantly, and he ventured to inquire — 

« Its what did ye say kind of snarly I was in.^” 

I only just want to open your peepers to the fact, 
of having been trapped on board an old boat,yh% t.> 
sured^ with a desperate shaky ’scape-pipe, and engaged 
to be blow’d up this trip ; so good by old fellow, you’re 
ticketed.” 

‘‘Och! if she’s fully insured^ all’s right,” says Mi- 
chael, whispering safety to his heart, ‘‘ and the boy that I 
came wid, says she can run up a tree if there’s a dhrap 
of wather on it.” 

If she don’t run up a tree,” was the reply, “ she’ll 
be sure to run agin a snaggy one, and then, I predicate, 
some of her passengers ’ll be blow’d tree high, so you’re 
in for it, old boss ! Good by, — I say, if you should see 
my old uncle down thar^^ pointing at the same time 
significantly to the rushing river, “ the one I mean who 
didn’t leave me any money, tell him for me, as he’s 


AN emigrant’s perils. 


103 


gone to the d — 1, to shake himself — will you?” and 
after delivering himself of this soothing request, he va- 
nished, leaving Michael fancying himself astride of a 
’scape pipe riding over tree tops, rocket fashion. 

Och sorra the day I iver put fut among sich hay- 
thins!” soliloquised Michael, “ to talk of a man’s bein’ 
blown to smithereens^ as if it were but a gintle rap wid 
a shillaleh — faith its out iiv this I’ll be immigratin’ 
quicker than you could peel a pratie,” and forthwith he 
proceeded to move, with all possible haste, his stock 
of worldly effects ; observing which the runner, who 
had awoke his fears, shouted out as a ‘‘ don’t 

forget uncle, for he would think it dreadful mean, if I 
didn’t send word by somebody I knew wasgozV directs 
Leave that luggage alone,” savagely shouted the 
mate, <«you can’t leave this boat — you’re engaged^ 

<< Thrue for ye’s,” says Michael in a doleful tone, 
“be dad I was omadhaun enough to do that same, and 
ye’s can blow me up when iver you’re a mind to.” 

“ We don’t blow her up,” says the mate, “ until the 
downward trip, unless some gentleman ’s requested it 
in his bargain ; if you’ve got a flying ticket we are bound 
to accommodate you,” and just at that moment, whiz 
went a steam-cock. 

“ Be aisy for the Lord’s sake,” shouted Michael, 
“ blow her up for the gintleman cornin’ down ; as I’m 
not used to it, I might fall awkwardly in some man’s 
apple orchard and desthroy peach tree — d’ye mind.” 

Having been assured that all was safe, and that by 
express desire the blowing up was deferred, he took his 
seat at the stern. As the shades of evening gathered 
around the boat and over the waters, the steamer pushed 
from her moorings, — the last we saw of Michael he was 


104 


FUN WITH A BAR. 


J) 

liolding in one hand a small string of beads, with a ro- 
sary attached, while the other grasped the painter of the 
jolly-boat towing astern, and his eye wdth a doubtful, 
but resigned expression, was firmly fixed on the shaky 
"^scape-pipe. 


FUN WITH A “BAH.’’ 

K NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE MISSOURI. 

At the head of a ravine on the border of the river 
Platte, one bright night in June, was gathered a party 
of Missouri hunters, who were encamped after a day’s 
chase for buffalo. The evening’s repast was over, and 
as they stretched themselves in easy attitudes around 
their stack of rifles, each looked at the other with, a 
kind of questioning expression, of whether it should be 
sleep or a yarnl^ The bright moon, with full round 
face, streamed down into their midst, and sprinkled her 
silvery sheen over shrub and flower, investing night in 
those vast solitudes with a strange charm which forbid 
sleep, and with common consent they raised themselves 
into a sitting posture and proposed a ‘‘ tallr,” as the red 
skins say. Dan Elkhorn was the leader of the party, 
and all knew his store of adventure inexhaustible, so 
a unanimous call was made upon Dan for a story. 
«« Come, Dan,” cried a crony, “ give us something to 
laugh at, and let us break this silence, which seems to 
breed a spirit of melancholy — stir us up, old fellow, do !” 

Dan pulled his long knife out of his belt, and laying 
it before him, smoothed back his long grey hair. He 
was a genuine specimen of the hardy American moun- 


105 


FUN WITH A «« BAR.” 

taineer, — like the Indian, he dressed in deer skins and 
wore the moccason, while every seam in his iron coun- 
tenance told of ’scapes and peril. Seeing that all were 
attention he commenced — 

‘‘ Well, draw up closer, boys, so I shan’t have to 
holler, ’cause breth is gittin’ kind a short with me now, 
and I want to pacel it out to last pretty strong till the 
wind-up hunt. You, Mike, keep your eye skinned for 
Ingins, ’cause ef we git deep in a yarn here, without a 
top eye open, the cussed varmints ’ll pop on us unawars, 
and be stickin’ some of thur quills in us — nothin’ like 
havin’ your eye open and insterraents ready. I’ve a big 
idea to gin you an account of some fun I had with an 
old W, on the Missouri, when I was a younker, and 
considerably more spry than I am jest now. I want to 
tell you fust, boys, that bars are knowin’ animals, and 
they kin jest tell a younker of the human kind as easily 
as they kin a small pig from the old sow ; — they don’t 
fool with me now, for they’ve got to know me! 

‘‘ Well, old Alic Dennison, a neighbour of mine on 
the Missouri, had bin about two years up in the moun- 
tains, and when he came home he gin a treat to all the 
fellars within thirty miles of him — that was jest seven 
families — and among ’em, in course, I got an invite. 
Alic and I had sot our cabins on opposite sides of the 
drink, near enough to see each other, and a red skin, ef 
he’d come on a scalp visit, would a bin diskivered by 
either. When Alic’s frolic was to cum off, I was on 
hand, sartain. About evenin’ I got my small dug-out, 
and fixin’ my rifle carefully in the fore eend, and stickin’ 
my knife in the edge whar it would be handy, I jest 
paddled over the drink. 

A little above our location thar wur a bend in the 


106 FUN WITH A ‘‘BAR.” 

stream which a kind a turned the drift tother eend up, 
and planted them about the spot between our cabins — 
snags and sawyers, jest thar, wur dreadful plenty, and 
it took mity nice padlin’ to git across without tiltin’ ; 
howsever, I slid atween ’em, sarpentine fashion, and got 
over clar as a pet coon. Thar wur considerable folks 
at Alic’s, fur some of the families in them diggins had 
about twenty in number, and the gals among ’em warn’t 
any on your pigeon creators, that a fellar dassent tech 
fur fear of spilin’ ’em, but raal scrougers — any on ’em 
over fourteen could lick a har^ easy. My decided 
opinion jest now is, that thur never was a grittyer 
crowd congregated before on that stream, and sich 
other dancin’ and drinkin’ and eatin’ bar steaks, and 
corn dodger, and huggin’ the gals, don’t happen bui 
once in a fellar’s lifetime, and scarcely that often. Old 
Alic had a darter Molly, that war the most enticin’, 
gizzard-ticklin’, heart* distressin’^e/zTie creator that ever 
made a fellar git owdacious, and I seed Tom Sellers 
cavortin’ round her like a young buffalo — he was puttin’ 
in the biggest kind a licks in the way of courtin’, and 
between her eyes and the sweetened whiskey he’d drank, 
you’d a thought the fellar would a bursted. Jest to 
make matters lively, I headed up alongside of Molly, 
and shyed a few soft things at her, sech as askin’ how 
she liked bar steaks cooked, and if Jim Tarrant warn’t 
equal in the elbow to a mad panfer'^s tail, when he war 
fiddlin’ that last reel, and sech amusin’ light conversa- 
tion. Well, boys, Tom started swellin’ instanter. He 
tried to draw her attention from me ; but I got talkin’ 
about some new improvements I war contemplatin’ 
about my cabin, and the cow I expected up from St. 
Louis, ’sides lonely feelins J’d bin havin’ lately, and 


FUN WITH A BAR. 


107 


)) 

Tom couldn’t git in a show of talk, edgeways. Didn’t 
he git mad.? — wur you ever near enough to a panter 
when his har riz with wrath.? Well, ef you have, you 
can create some idea of Tom’s state of mind, and how 
electricity, from liquor and love, run out to the eends 
of his head kiverin’. It wur easy to see he wur a gittin’ 
dangerous, so I slid off and left him alone with the gal. 
Arter I got a talkin’ to another one of the settlers’ young 
women, Molly kept lookin’ at me, and every now and 
then sayin’ somethin’ pleasin’ across to me, while she 
warn’t payin’ any attention to Tom at all. He spread 
himself into a stiff bow and left her ; then movin’ across 
the floor like a w^ounded deer, he steadied himself on 
the back of my seat, and lookin’ me in the face, says: 

« Mister Elkhorn, I shud be strenuously obleeged to 
you ef you’ll step down thar with me by the old per- 
simmen tree.’ 

‘‘ I nodded my head, and told him to trot outside and 
wait till I got the docyments, and as soon as he moved 
I sent his old daddy to accompany him. I jest informed 
the old fellar that Tom w^anted a fight, and as he w'as 
too full of corn juice to cut carefully, I didn’t want to 
take advantage of him. The old man said he w’as 
obleeged to me, and moved out. Tom, thinkin’ it wur 
me, staggered ahead of the old man, and I concluded, 
as it war near mornin’, to leave ; ’cause I knew when 
Tom found out his daddy w^as along with him instead 
of me, he’d have a fight any how\ I acknowledge the 
corn, boys, that when I started my track warn’t anythin’ 
like a bee-line ; — the sweeten’d w hiskey had made me 
pow^erful thick-legged ; but arter a fashion I got to my 
dug-out, with nothin’ of w^eapon along in the world but 
the paddle. Thar w’ar jest enough light to tell thal: 


108 FUN WITH A “ BAR.” 

snags wur plenty, and jest enough corn juice inside to 
make a fellar not care a cuss fur ’em. I felt strong as 
a boss, too, and the dug-out hadn’t more’n leaped six 
lengths from the bank afore — zip — chug — co-souse I 
went — the front eend jest' lifted itself agin a sawyer and 
emptied me into the element! In about a second I 
came up bang agin a snag, and I guess I grabbed it 
sudden, while old Missouri curl’d and purl’d around 
me as ef she was in a hurry to git to the mouth, so she 
might muddy the Massissippi. I warn’t much skeer’d, 
but still I didn’t jest like to hang on thar till daylight, 
and I didn’t want to make a fuss fur fear they’d say I 
war skary. I had sot myself on the eend of the snag, 
and was jest tryin’ to cypher out some way of gittin’ to 
shore, when I thought 1 diskiver’d a fellar sittin’ on the 
bank. At fust, he looked so black in the coat I thought 
it war Tom Sellers, who’d sot himself down to wait fur 
a fight: — Tom had on at the frolic a black blanket coat 
with a velvet collar, and he thought it particularly nice. 
Arter lookin’ at him move about and sit down on his 
hunkers once or twice, I thought I’d holler to him ; but 
he appeared so dreadful drunk that I didn’t expect 
much help from him. 

< Tom,’ shouted I, ‘ come out here with a dug-out, 
and help a fellar off, will you ?’ 

He sot still, without sayin’ a word. « Well,’ says 
I to him, « you’re meaner than an Ingin ! and w^ould 
bait a trap with your daddy’s leggins.’ He didn’t move 
fur a spell ; at last into the drink he popped, and now, 
thought I, he is mad and dispute. I could see him 
paddlin’ right fur me, and I holler’d to him that I had 
no insterments, but he didn’t say a whisper, ony shoved 
along the faster. At last up he come agin my snag, 


FUN WITH A << BAR.” 109 

arc! the next minit he reached fur me, and then he tried 
to fix his teeth into my moccason ; so guessin’ it war 
time to do somethin’, I jest grabbed fur his muzzle, and 
I’m blessed, boys, ef it warn’t a great he bar ! The 
cussed varmint had watched me from the house and 
seed I had no weapons, and when I iipsot he just 
counted me his’n, and was quietly calculatin’ on the 
bank how he’d best git me out of the water. I had 
nothin’ in the yearth but a small fancy pen knife, but I 
stuck that in him so quick that he let me go, and while 
he swam for one snag I reached for another. I never 
heerd a bar laugh out loud afore, but I’m a sucker ef 
he didn’t snigger twice at the way he rolled me off my 
log. 

“ We sot lookin’ at one another fur a spell, when I 
seed the varmint gittin’ ready to call on me agin, and 
in about a second more ofi' he dropped, and strait he 
took a shute for my location. As he came up close to 
me I slit his ear with the small blade, and he got mad ; 
but jest as he was circling round me to git a good hold, 
I dropped on to his hinder eend and grabbed his har, 
and I guess I made him move fur shore a leetle faster 
than a steam boat — my little blade kept him dreadful 
itchy. Well, the fun of the thing wur, boys, as soon 
as the varmint teched shore, he turned right round on 
me, and I’m cussed if I hadn’t to turn round, too, and 
scratch for the snag agin ! with that consarned har feelin’ 
my legs with his paw every stroke I w^ar makin’ to git 
away from him ! I got a little skary, now, and a good 
deal mad, fur thar the varmint war a w'aitin’ for me, and 
whinin’ as ef he had been ill-treated, and thar I w ur 
perched up on a sawyer, bobbin’ up and dowm in the 
water. At last I sot a hollerin’ and kept on at it, and 


110 FUN WITH A <‘BAR.” 

hollered louder, until I seed some one cum from the 
house, and singin’ out agin they answered me. I asked 
who it war, and found that it war Molly, old Alic’s 
darter; so I gin her a description of my siteaytion, and 
she war into a dug-out in a minit, and paddlin’ towards 
me. I believe I said wonce, boys, that bars wur knowin’ 
critters, but ef thar’s anythin’ true on this yearth,^it’s 
the fact, that this consumed animal had made up his 
mind to upsot that gal, and I’m blessed ef he didn’t 
jest as cute as ef he’d bin human! Startin’ from his 
snag he swam to the dug-out, put up both paws, and 
over it went — over went Molly into the stream, and off 
slid Mister 6ar, laffin’ out loud! as I’m a white man. 

I seized Molly as she came floatin’ towards me, and 
stuck her upon my sawyer, while I started for an adji- 
nin’ snag. I could hear Molly grittin’ her teeth, she 
war so bilin’ mad, and Jest as soon as she could git 
breath, she hollered to me to be sure I never rested till 
I killed that varmint. I swore on that snag that I’d 
grow thin chasin’ the critter, and she seemed to git 
pacified. Well, thar we wur, in the stream, and it a 
leetle too rough to swim in easy, so we had to sing out 
for help, and I yelled till I war nigh onto hoarse, afore 
anythin’ livin’ stirred about the house ; at last, nigger 
Jake came down to the edge of the river, jest as day 
was breakin’, and puttin’ his hand over his eyes, he 
hollers — 

u t Why, Massa Dan, is dat you wot’s been hollowin’ 
eber so long for somebody !’ 

“ ‘ You’ve jest took the notion to cum see, have you, 
you lazy nigger — now git a dug-out and come out here 
- and git your missus and me off these snags, and do it 
quick, too, or I’ll make you holler!’ 


FUN WITH A <<BAR.” Ill 

‘ What, Missus dar, too P shouted the nigger, ‘ well, 
dat’s funny — de Lor !’ and off the cussed blueskin started 
fur the housCj and in a few ininits all that could gethered 
out to see us and laugh at our water locations. 

“ I had bin gittin’ riled by degrees, and now was at 
a dangerous pint — the steam began to rise off on me 
till thar wur a small fog above my head, and as the half 
drunken varmints roared a laffin, and cracked their jokes 
about our courtin’ in the middle of the drink, I got awful 
excited. ‘ I’ll make ribbons of every man among you,’ 
says I, « when I git whar thar’s a chance to fight.’ And 
then the cussed crew roared the louder. Tom Sellers 
yelled out that we’d bin tryin’ to elope, and this made 
Molly mad, — her daddy got a little mad, too, and I 
bein’ already mad, thar wur a wrathy trio on us, and 
the old fellow said, ef he thought I’d been playin’ a 
two-faced game, and bitin’ his friendship like a pizen 
varmint, he’d drop me off the log I wur on with a ball 
from his rifle. I jest told him to fire away and be d — d, 
for I wur wore out a patience. Some of the boys held 
him, while others got the dug-out and came to our as- 
sistance. I jest got them to drop me on my side of the 
river, and to send over my rifle, and as soon as it war 
on hand I onloosed my dog Yelp, and started to wipe 
out my disgrace. 

<< That infernal bar, as soon as he’d tossed Molly in 
the stream, started for the woods ; but, as ef he had rea- 
soned on the chances, the varmint came to the conclu- 
sion that he couldn’t git away, and so got up into a 
crotch of a low tree, about a quarter of a mile from my 
cabin. Old Yelp smelled him, and as soon as I clapped 
peeper on him I let sliver, when the varmint dropped 
like a log, — I went to him and found he’d bin dead for 


112 


TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS. 


an nour. My little blade couldn’t a killed him, so it’s 
my opinion, clearly entertained, that the owdacious var- 
mint, knowin’ I’d kill him for his trick, jest climbed up 
thar whar I could easy find him, and died to spite me ! 

His hide, and hard swearin’, got me and Molly out 
of our slopin’ scrape, and the lickin’ I gin Tom Sellers 
that spring has made us good friends ever sence. He 
don’t wonce ventur’ to say anythin’ about that har scrape j 
without my permission !” 


TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS.^"^ 

A night’s ADVENTURE IN THE AMERICAN BOTTOM. 

The great struggles to obtain early news in the east, 
between the proprietors of daily journals, has infused a 
spirit of rivalry in their western brethren, and they have 
been of late, prating all along the Mississippi valley, 
about expresses to Washington, railroads to Oregon, 
regular lines to California, telegraphs connecting St. 
Louis with the east, &c., and sundry other new-fangled 
methods of getting ahead of time. We do not much 
wonder at it, for this is the age of expresses, and the 
man who lingers along in the old ‘‘ sure-and-easy” 
method, is certain to be lost sight of in the rapid whirl 
of the new order of things. In the matter of news^ now- 
a-days, it is not news unless expressed^ and we hesitate 
not to say that the President’s message, received in the 
old fashioned wait-till-you-get-it manner, would not be 
read with interest. 

At St. Louis, on the night of the 17th of December, 
the Presidenfs message was expected in town, and 


TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS. 


113 


many were the suspicious rumours in circulation, about 
private expresses, magnetic telegraphs, and “ enormous” 
arrangements to spread the intelligence with rapidity. 
Every body knew that the old slow-and-easy line 
through Illinois would be along sometime that night, 
and allowing it ten days from Washington to the Mis- 
sissippi, it was very probable that among its contents 
would be found a copy of that important document. 
Col. K., a veteran conducter of the city press, called a 
few of his boys together, that evening, and quietly re- 
marked to them : — 

Boys, that terrapin team will arrive to night on the 
(. ^her side of the river with the message, and as it gene- 
rally remains there until next morning, unless we can 
persuade the driver to cross the river, w^e will get no 
message until to morrow, so I wish you to start as an 
express, and see if you can’t coax him to cross. — Use 
the persuasive^ liberally, but bring him and the mail- 
bags, anyhow 

Orders were positive, and a “ team” of three started 
to execute the Colonel’s orders. The river w'as a sheet 
of solid ice, upon which the full moon poured down a 
flood of radiance. Across the ice they dashed, gained 
the Illinois side, and chartering a w^agon and horses 
belonging to a couple of suckers, started to meet the 
stage. The drivers of this express w'ere dubious about 
taking their passengers, because they w^ould not disclose 
W'here they wished to go. “Keep dark!” said one. 
“ Mum is the w'ord !” said the other. “ They intend 
to steal sum gal on the road,” whispered one sucker to 
his friend. 

“ Well, they’ve got a cussed poor taste, fur I’ll swar 
tnar aint anythin’ on this yeur road to the blufi' wuth 
15 


114 


TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS. 


shucks, ’cept Nancy Birch, and her temper would tarn 
the stomic of the d — 1.’’ In the course of a few minutes 
one express passenger remarked to his companion, 
“We’ll meet the stage this side of the brick house.” 
“ Certain,” was his friend’s reply. “ It’s out now,” 
paid the biggest sucker, “thar goin’ to roh the mail,” 
and he cast a fearful glance over his shoulder to see if 
they had pistols in their hands. The stage was now 
heard lumbering along, and in a few minutes they met, 
when out dashed the expresses. “ Stop!” cried one, to 
the driver — up mounted another to the side of the stage. 
“ I’m d — d, gentlemen, ef we belong to that arr crowd!” 
screamed the sucker driver, “ I’ll jest swar on a stack of 
bibles, that them fellars ony hired our team.” 

The express who mounted the side of the stage, 
thinking he might obtain a copy from some passenger, 
thrust his head through the door, and finding one 
“insider” he demanded : — 

“ Have you got a messageV^ 

“Dake all mit you, mine Got!” exclaimed a Ger- 
man passenger in answer, “ but dont gill de fader 
of dirteen little babys,” — at the same time he handed 
his wallet to the express messenger. 

“To the d — 1 with your old leather, give me a mes- 
sage paper .”’ shouted the express. 

“May I go to der duyvel^ if ish got any oder baper 
but Indiana exclaimed the Dutchman, still holding 
forth his wallet. 

The driver now informed them that he had the mes- 
sage along, but “ he’d jest see them and the city of St. 
Louis in h — 1, afore they’d git him two steps further 
lhan the law jservided he should go,” and that was to 
the Illinois side of the river. He said this so hitter^ 


TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS. 


115 


that the chance looked hopeless for moving him, bu' 
one of the boys, wdth a tongue <‘iley as a sarpint,’ 
quiet as a mole, and civil as a pill pedlar, climbed up 
on the seat beside him, and placing himself in a good 
position, he commenced whispering close to the ear of 
the driver, and Eve never yielded as easily to the ser- 
pent’s temptation, as the mail driver now began to melt 
under the soft whisper floating around him. 

You said it would be hotP"* exclaimed the driver. 

I did,” replied the whisper, and lots of it, besides 
a dollar under the pitcher of punch, and sundry com- 
fortable fixens around it.” 

«« Don’t say any more,” said the driver, << that’s jest 
the kind of snap I want to git into to night.” So, put- 
ting up his horses he shouldered the mail bags, and 
across to St. Louis the party travelled. 

The proprietors of the anxious city journals, alarmed 
at the delay of the express^ resolved to despatch tele- 
graphs in search of them ; and, having charged three 
with the electric fluids off they started — and Morse’s 
invention aint a beginning to the way the St. Louis 
specimens travelled. Across the ice — slap — dash— up 
the side of the ferry boat, and up the hill. Here were 
collected about fifty Illinois market wagons, and a cor- 
responding number of suckers. A group of these latter 
were gathered around a large fire, discussing the proba- 
bility of being able to cross the ice to St. Louis, on the 
succeeding day. A telegraph inquired of one of these, 
if he had seen anything of the express. No, I haint,” 
says he, but I hev got first rate butter, at two bitts a 
pound!” Melt your butter!” shouted an indignani 
telegraph. Come and show us the road out to Pap’j 
house, captain,” said another. The marketeer r.arted 


116 


TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS. 


a few rods with him, and then, as if a sudden thought 
hit him, looked at the telegraph gent, and, pointing his 
finger at him, he slowly remarked — No you don’t 
hoss ! I jest see right through you.” << Why, you fool, 
don’t you see by my appearance that I am a gentleman ?” 
inquired telegraph. The sucker marketeer drew off a 
few paces, to be ready to run, and then shouted — “ Yes, 
I’ve’feeen jest sich gentleman fellars as you in the peni- 
tentiary and off he dashed, congratulating himself on 
his escape from robbery. 

Away went the telegraphs again, heading for Pap’s 
house, a stopping place about one mile from the ferry, 
and while one led the way, the other two, wishing to 
slip him, hid on the road-side, but the rival telegraph 
seated himself in the road to wait for the appearance of 
his company. As there was no way, in the clear moon- 
light, to get round him unobserved, they came out and 
again started. Now for it ! — best man at Pap’s first ! 
Away they started, “ lickety-click,” and arrived at the 
winning-post within touching distance of each other. 
After rapping up the bar-keeper they seated themselves 
by the stove, leisurely warmed up, and then inquired 
how soon they expected the stage along. “ It passed 
here with the message, full twenty minutes ago was 
the answer. 

Clear the track ! — hey .'—here was news. Three im- 
portant aids of two printing establishments, two miles 
from their offices, and the message there! Now com- 
menced a stampede unknown to Fashion — down to the 
river — on to the ice ; — pit — pat — pat — pit — slip — slide 
— bang! — and down he goes “up, boys, and at it 
again.” The island was reached in safety. Here was 
a dangerous gap, at which stood a foot passenger afraid 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


117 


to cross. ‘‘ Look out,” he shouted, “ you’ll get in 
there.” “ Get thunder ! — get out of the road !” shouted 
the foremost — through they dashed — the last sticking 
his leg through dijeet, and the city side was gained like 
a flash of lightning. The leading telegraph resLched the 
composing room of an enterprising city paper, just as 
the foreman was shouting — proof! 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT; 

OR, DICK KELSY’s SIGNATURE TO HIS LAND CLAIM. 

Dick Kelsy was one of the earliest settlers in the 
Upper Missouri country, and a more open-hearted or 
careless son of Kentucky, never squatted in the “ Far 
West.” He had wandered from his parent state more 
for a change of location than any desire to improve his 
condition, and if a spot offered easy hunting facilities, 
it mattered not what contingencies were added, Dick 
‘‘ sot himself down thar^ Tall, raw-boned, good-na- 
tured and fearless, he betrayed no ambition to excel, 
except in his rifle, and the settlers generally conceded 
that his ‘‘shooting-iron” was particularly certoi A 
spot upon one of the tributaries of the Missouri won 
Dick’s heart at first sight — it bordered upon a beautiful 
stream ; — had a far spreading prairie, skirted by a fine 
grove of timber, for a landscape, and abounded with all 
sorts of game, from a prairie fowl to an Indian. Here 
Dick built his cabin, beneath the shadow of his own 
cotton tree, and he used to tell his neighbours that nature 
had, after practising on the rest of creation, spread her 


118 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


finishing touches on his claim. Its wild beauty de- 
served his lavish praise. 

In this western habitation our hero held undisturbed 
sway, his only companion being a negro slave, who W'as 
at once his master’s attendant and friend. Kelsy and 
the negro had been raised together, and from associa- 
tion, although so opposite their positions, had imbibed 
a lasting affection for each other, — each would have 
freely shed blood in the other’s defence. The bonds 
of servitude were, consequently, moulded into links of 
friendship and affection, securing to them a feeling of 
confidence in their lonely habitation in the wilderness. 
Their nearest neighbours were situated at a small trad- 
ing settlement, some ten miles distant, where Dick al- 
ways repaired to exchange his furs for ammunition and 
other essentials. Here he also learned the news from 
the far-off seat of government ; but the busy world be- 
yond little interested these roving sons of the w^estern 
forests, — a brush with the red skins, or a challenge 
shooting match, possessed much more interest for them. 
At length, however, these w estern pioneers wTre aroused 
from their quietude and inactivity by the new’s that 
Congress had passed the famous Pre-emption Law. As 
yet none in the region w^e wTite of knew’ its provisions, 
or, distinctly, what rights it conferred ; each squatter, 
therefore, laid out the bounds of his claim in accordance 
with his owm desire, and stood ready to defend the title 
against all encroachments. The fever of emigration 
became an epidemic, and soon that speculating mania, 
which, in imagination, built fortunes in a day, spread 
even to the confines of civilization. The axe of the 
pioneer soon began to startle the wild denizens of the 


THE PRE-EMl’TION RIGHT. 


119 


forest, where for ages the hunter alone had disturbed 
their repose. 

One bright morning a ri'pple of the advancing tide, in 
the persons of two strangers, was discovered by Dick 
about a quarter of a mile from his cabin, where, appa- 
rently, they had rested for the night. The first was a 
man about middle stature, of a dark swarthy complexion, 
with an uneasy eye, prominent teeth, and clad in a di- 
lapidated suit of Kentucky jean ; — an old chip hat sur- 
mounted his figure, and in his right hand he held the 
sceptre of the pioneer — a HJie! His companion was a 
pale, sickly-looking little woman, clad in a coarse lin- 
sey-woolsey gown, and in her hand she held a faded 
calico sun-bonnet ; close by stood a small wagon, with 
a quilt cover, to which was harnessed a horse, bearing 
evident marks of long travel and hard fare. 

How are you, strangers was Dick’s first query. 
‘‘ Judgin’ from appearances, you’re lookin’^out a loca- 
tion.” 

‘‘ Yes,” replied the man, in a surly tone, I’ve been 
lookin’ all along, but I aint found any yet fit fur a white 

Well, you’ve jest got to the spot now,” says Dick. 
“ Creation aint laid out any place prettier, and arter 
takin’ a view of it, you’ll say so. You and the missus 
better go up to my cabin and rest till you can take a 
good look at its best pints, and I predicate you’ll come 
to a conclusion.” 

Well, guess I’ll stay a spell,” was the stranger’s 
response, and following Dick, he was introduced be- 
neath the Kentuckian’s hospitable roof, after which Dick 
started to the settlement for some notions with which to 
entertain them more comfortably. On his arrival the 


120 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


whole conversation at the settlement was the pre-emption 
act, and during the debate on its merits, he mentioned 
the new arrival” in his neighbourhood, of the stran- 
gers They had passed through the settlement, and as 
all new comers are a subject of interest, various opinions 
were expressed in regard to these. 

Judgin’ from that stranger’s frontispiece,” said one, 
“ Lshouldn’t like him fur a near neighbour?” 

He’s rayther a sour lookin’ customer,” added an- 
other ; ‘‘ and how dreadful poorly his wife looks.” 

I’ve invited him to locate near me,” remarked Kelsy, 
and I can’t say he’s got a very pleasin’ look ; but the 
rough shell may have a good kernel, boys.” 

After providing necessaries, Dick gave the settlers an 
invitation to come up and help the stranger to raise a 
cabin. All agreed to be ihar on the next Saturday, and 
homeward he started. On his arrival, Sam was cook- 
ing the evening meal of wild game and corn bread, all 
the time expatiating to the guests what a good man 
Massa Dick” w^as, and particularly impressing upon 
their minds that he, (Sam,) was Massa Dick’s ’stror- 
dinary niggah !” Sam’s efforts at amusement failed 
upon the strangers, for one was quietly weeping, while 
the other wore a scowd of anger. Dick noticed their 
looks on entering, and endeavoured to cheer them — 

‘‘ Don’t look dowm hearted, strangers,” said he, 
you aint among Ingins ef you are near ’em — thar aint 
a spot in the universal yearth calkilated to make you 
feel better than whar you are now. Sam and me never 
felt bad sence we located here, — only when the Ingins 
penned us in the cabin fur three days, while all our bar 
meat was hangln’ on the outside.” 

“ It’s this cussed woman,” answered the stranger, 


I 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


121 


that makes me feel bad — she’s etarnally whimperin’ 
about bein’ so fur from home — I wish she was in h-11 1” 

‘‘ Stop that, stranger,” said Dick, in a determined 
tone; “the love I have for an old Kentucky mother 
won’t permit me to see or hear one of her sex abused 
beneath my cabin roof, ef it is in the wilderness, — I 
don’t like red skins, none of ’em, but even a squaw 
couldn’t be abused here!” 

“ Well, I’m done,” was the reply. “ I’ll git a cabin 
of my own, and then I guess I’ll do as I please.” 

“ No you won’t,” said Dick ; “ ef you stay in these 
diggins and abuse her, you’re in a hotter place than 
whar you jest now wished her.” 

It may be supposed that the host and his guest retired, 
the first night of their meeting, with no favourable im- 
pression of each other ; and while Sam and his master 
were making all right for the night, the former ventured 
to remark — 

“ Dar aint much good in dat white man, Massa 
Dick.” 

“ Not a heap^ Sam,” was his master’s reply; “ but he 
shan’t pisiii us long with his company ;” and with this 
comfortable resolve they turned in for the night. 

At daylight Dick started out with his rifle on his arm, 
to observe the foot-prints around his dwelling, and note 
whether they were biped or quadruped, the close prox- 
imity of the Indian tribes and their frequent thefts, 
making caution and care necessary to preserve, not only 
property, but life. As he was returning to his cabin a 
scream startled him from his careless gait — it was a new 
sound in that wdlderness ; and many a day had passed 
since Dick heard anything akin to it. He started for- 
ward with a bound, convulsively clutching his rifle, 


122 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


while his blood urged into rapid action by the move- 
ment, was again forced back to his heart, chilled by 
another fearful scream of a woman in distress. In a 
moment he emerged from the strip of woods, vvithin 
view of his cabin, and there beheld the stranger with 
his arm raised to. strike ; fronting him stood Sam, pois- 
ing a large hunting knife in defence, while upon the 
other arm of the muscular negro, hung the trembling 
form of the stranger’s sickly wife. A few moments and 
Dick was beside the combatants, inquiring the cause of 
their hostile attitude. When Sam informed him that 
the stranger had twice, with his fist, felled the woman 
to the earth, his rifle raised instinctively to his shoulder, 
as if justice demanded instant and dreadful punishment 
for such a dastard act. Dick slowly remarked, as he 
directed his aim — 

“ I’ll sarve you out, you infernal savage 

The stricken wife observing the action, threw herself 
before the weapon, imploring the enraged host to spare 
her husband’s life. 

“ Well, woman is woman,” soliloquised Dick ; “ for 
they’ll stick to the devil, ef they ever take a notion to 
him. If you have the least hankerin’ arter the mean 
varmint, in course I’ll let him slide ; but he must clar 
out of my diggins — I can’t be near w’har anythin’ of his 
breed grows, — so arter breakfast we’ll separate.” 

When the morning meal was ended, the stranger drew 
up his wagon, thrust his companion into it, and sullenly 
departed, muttering a threatening farewell. 

“ God help that poor creatur,” said Dick, as his late 
guests disappeared from view, ^^she^sgot a hard row to 
hoe, and as foi'that sarpent with her, he’d better keep 
out of my tracks. I should be mightily tempted to sarch 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


123 


.'liF carcass to see ef he had a heart in it. Sara,” con- 
tinued he, you're a nigger, but thar’s more real white 
man under your black skin than could be found in an 
acre of such varmints as that sucker. Give me your 
fist, old fellar ; while Dick Kelsy’s got anythin’ in this 
world, you shall share it !” 

While this bond of closer friendship was being 
formed between master and slave, malice was holding 
her revel in the heart of their late guest. He had ob- 
served Dick’s love for the spot where he had squatted, 
and judging rightly that he had neglected to file his 
claim to it in the Land Office, he stopped a short dis- 
tance below him, intending to remain, and, if possible 
gain possession of it. Kelsy had his dislike for the 
stranger increased by finding him remain on his section, 
and he ordered him to leave forthwith. The stranger 
gave as an excuse, that his wife was so sick that she 
couldn’t travel, and ended with a request that he would 
let him erect a hut to shelter her, while he went in 
search of a permanent location. In pity for her^ Dick 
consented, and the stranger proceeded to prepare timber 
for a small cabin. The following Saturday the neigh- 
bors gathered, and by nightfall placed a roof over their 
heads, kindly supplied them with some necessaries, and 
left, each more confirmed in his dislike for the stranger. 
The next morning he started*' off, as many supposed, 
never to return ; the natural kindness of the settlers was 
immediately manifested towards his wife, and nothing 
that would conduce to her comfort, was lacking in the 
cabin of this heart-broken woman. 

After the lapse of several days, contrary to all expec- 
tation, the stranger returned, and a visible change was 
manifested in his manner — his surliness assumed a more 


124 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


impudent and offensive character, and on receiving a 
further intimation that it was time he was moving^ he 
insolently told Dick to clear out,'’ himself, for that 
he, (the stranger,) was the rightful owner of the claim. 
Dick laughed at him, and told him to be off quietly, 
that his carcass was safe while that woman clung to 
him. 

Kelsy was laughing next day, down at the settlement, 
as he related the stranger’s words, and described his 
insolent bearing ; but his smile of scorn was turned to 
a frown of wrath, when the Land Agent, who happened 
to hear him, informed the unsuspecting squatter, that 
the stranger had, indeed, entered the claim his cabin 
was upon. Dick, on hearing this news, shivered the 
bottle in his hand to atoms, and drawing his breath 
through his teeth until it fairly whistled, he remarked — 

“ That stranger may have some of my claim, but his 
share shall be my signature to the title. 

The sun w'as fast sinking when Dick started home, 
rather limber from the effects of wrath and liquor. 
Having resigned himself to the care of his horse, he 
swung from side to side, in a state of dozing uncon- 
sciousness. When he neared his cabin, it had become 
pitch dark, to which, if possible, the woods bordering 
his claim, added a gloomier shade. The instant his 
horse entered beneath the foliage, a sharp pain shot 
through the side of the rider, so acute as to wake his 
powers suddenly into full consciousness. The spring 
he made in the saddle startled his horse forward into a 
rapid gait, and in an instant more, a sickly sensation 
robbed him of all consciousness. When he opened his 
eyes with returning animation, his look fell upon his 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 125 

faithful slave, who was bending, with an anxious coun- 
tenance, over the rude couch of his master. 

“ Bress God ! Massa Dick, you knows Sam, your ole 
nigga — I sees you does — dars life in you yet, massa, — 
dar is, but dis poor nigga had amost gib you up, for 
sartain !” 

An unseen hand had, in the darkness, plunged a knife 
into Dick’s body, as he entered the wood ; he had clung 
to his horse’s mane, until the animal stopped at his 
cabin door, where Sam, waiting for his master, had 
caught his bleeding and unconscious body in his arms 
as it fell reeling from the saddle. The faithful negro 
had staunched the blood, and applied every restorative 
his rude knowledge could devise ; but it was long ere 
the eyes he so loved opened to the recollection of past 
events and present injury. 

“ That was a foul dig in the ribs, Sam,” murmured 
his exhausted master ; but ef I don’t trail up the sar- 
pint and pull his sting out, it’ll be because I and that 
ar old rifle of mine has to part company !” 

The natural strength of the patient, together with 
Sam’s careful nursing, soon restored him to his legs, 
and a few days’ gentle exercise imparted strength enough 
to his frame to support the weight of his rifle. A fixed 
resolve to trace the assassin added a severe cast to 
Dick’s pale features — Sam, as he observed him, quietly 
shook his head, with the remark — 

Ah, ah! Massa Dick’s soon goin’ Ingin huntin’ — 

sure 

One morning, early, Kelsy ordered Sam to saddle his 
horse, and proceeded himself to clean his rifle ; with 
more than usual care he adjusted each particular of his 
accoutrements, and started off to the settlement, taking 


126 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


the road leading by his neighbor’s cabin. On his 
arrival, he gathered a few of his cronies together, who 
all knew of the dastardly attempt on his life, and im- 
parted to them a scheme he had been maturing, for 
discovering if the stranger was the stabber in the 
dark,” — which few seemed to doubt, but of which he 
wished to be certain. 

As the sun inclined to the west, Kelsy made prepa- 
ration for return, and changing his dress for a suit be- 
longing to one of his friends, he stuffed his own with 
straw, surmounted the figure with his fur cap, and 
mounted it upon his horse before him, where it was 
secured to the saddle ; four of his friends accompanied 
him, and thus prepared, they bent their course towards 
Dick’s cabin. Night set in while they were on their 
march, and soon the moon rose, casting her soft light 
over a prairie landscape, as beautiful as ever the eye of 
man rested upon. It was a western scene of wild and 
picturesque loveliness, grand in its vastness of extent, 
and rich in its yet hidden resources. Its lonely quietude 
was calculated to subdue the wild passions which throb- 
bed in the hearts of those who now broke its stillness ; 
but a glance at the firm features of the party, proved 
that its beauty was unheeded by them as they swept 
onward to the dread business of their march. When 
within a mile of Dick’s habitation, they halted in a se- 
cluded hollow, where they resigned their horses to the 
care of one of the party, with instructions to turn Kel- 
sey’s horse loose about the time he supposed they, by 
a circuitous route, on foot, had reached the woods, and 
when he heard a shot, to follow with their other horses. 
Dick and his companions stole unperceived beneath the 
shadow of the wood, and cautiously approached the 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


127 


trail leading to his cabin ; ere they had reached the spot, 
however, one of the party descried the horse leisurely 
wending his way across a strip of prairie, the figure 
seated upon his back swaying from side to side, so like 
his owner when half sprung,” that they could with 
difficulty suppress a laugh. The sound of the horse’s 
hoofs brought from concealment another figure, whose 
form was indistinctly visible, emerging from behind a 
thick covert ; and the excitement of the moment, at thus 
having securely trapped the offender, had almost disco- 
vered them — their game, how’ever, was too intent on 
his purpose, or he would have heard the slight excla- 
mation which burst from the lips of one of the party. 
Moving stealthily to a good position he awaited horse 
and rider, and taking deliberate aim, fired. No move- 
ment of the figure indicated a hit^ and the party could^ 
hear his exclamation of disappointment. The horse 
sauntered along undisturbed by the report, perceiving 
which, the assassin hastily reloaded, while Dick and his 
friends crept up unperceived almost to his side. Rais- 
ing his rifle again, he steadily poised his aim, and pulled 
the trigger — erect the figure held its place, and resting 
his rifle upon the ground, he exclaimed — 

“ I’ve hit him, or he’s the devil himself P"* 

‘‘ I guess its the old gentleman come for you, 
stranger,” said Dick, as he snatched the rifle from his 
hand, and the whole party closed in a circle round him. 

The detected squatter looked paralyzed — his tongue 
refused its office, while his form, quivering with appre- 
hension, could scarcely keep erect, and his usually cold, 
uneasy eyes seemed fixed balls of light, so dreadful 
were they in their expression of coward fear. The 
party proposed to settle his business at once, and this 


128 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


movement loosened his tongue — he broke forth in piteous 
accents of supplication — 

«‘Oh, God! oh, God!” cried he, ‘‘you won’t kill 
me — will you.^” 

“ Well,” said one of the party, “ we wonH do any- 
thing else!^^ 

Kelsy interposed, and suggested that his death be 
deferred until daylight, in order that the stranger might 
see how it was done, and be put to sleep respectably. 
They immediately adjourned to Dick’s cabin, where 
they found Sam holding the straw figure in his arms, and 
looking in a state of stupor at the horse ; he thought his 
master was “done for;” but great was his joy when 
the well-known sounds of Kelsy’s voice assured him of 
his safety. 

The party seated themselves in a circle in the cabin, 
with the culprit in the centre, and his shrinking form, 
trembling with fear, and pallid, imploring countenance, 
looked most pitiful. As Kelsy gazed upon him the 
form of his sickly wife seemed to twine her arms around 
his neck, beseeching as when she before interposed her- 
self between him and death, and the vision of his mind 
searched out a tender spot in Dick’s heart. He resolved 
to give him a chance of escape, and, therefore, proposed 
to the party that they should decide by a game of cards^ 
whether the stranger should die or be permitted to leave 
the country. Dick’s friends protested against such 
mercy ; but after an earnest appeal from him, in behalf 
of the woman, they yielded — cards were produced, and 
one of the party selected to play against the culprit. 
By Kelsy’s entreaty, also, he was allowed the choice of 
his own game, and he selected euchre. All seated 
themselves, closer around the players — breathing seemed 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 129 

almost suspended — a beam of hope lent a slight glow 
to the pallid countenance of the stranger, while the com- 
pressed lips and frowning brow of his antagonist, gave 
assurance that no mercy would temper his play for this 
fearful stake. The rest of the party shared his dislike 
for the culprit, who was looked upon as a common foe, 
and their flashing eyes were bent upon his swarthy 
countenance with an expression of deadly hate, which 
forced out the cold drops of perspiration upon his sickly 
brow, and sunk his heart with fear. The cards were 
cut, and the stranger won the deal — he breathed with 
hope — he dealt and turned up the right bower — his 
antagonist passed^ and the stranger raising the bower y 
bid him play. The hand was soon finished and the 
stranger counted two! His visage lighted up, and he 
wiped his brow with a feeling of confidence in his luck 
The next hand the stranger ordered the card up and 
was euchered — they now stood eveUy and he again looked 
anxious. In the next two hands they successively won, 
each a single count, and it was the stranger’s deal again 
— he turned up a Hngy and held in his hand the queen 
and ten of trumps y together with the eight of diamonds 
and the Icing and ten of clubs. His antagonist ordered 
the king up, and as the stranger discarded his diamond^ 
a gleam of certain success overspread his visage — the 
rigid face of his antagonist betrayed no sign of exulta- 
tion, but his brow, on the contrary, became closer knit 
into a scowl, w'hich, by his party, was looked upon as 
a presage of defeat. Dick’s friend led the jack of clubs 
— the stranger followed suit wdth his ten of clubs — then 
came the ace of trumps — the stranger paused a moment, 
and played his ten s^pot — out came the right bower^ and 
he yielded his queen — the lef fell before his eyes, and 
17 


130 THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 

his last trump ^ {he Icings Avas swept away! At each 
play his countenance grew more and more ashy in its 
expression of despair and dread ; his lips had lost their 
color, and his eyes had gained an intenseness of ex- 
pression that seemed as if they could look into the very 
soul of the frowning figure before him, and read there 
his impending doom. For the first time a slight smile 
played upon the features of Dick’s friend as slowly he 
spread before him the ace of clubs! The stranger 
crushed his king within his trembling hands and threw 
it from him, as he sunk into a state of stupor, the very 
counterpart of death. 

“Your game’s up, stranger,” coolly remarked the 
winner; ‘‘yes, it’s up — played very neat — but it’s up! 
And you’ve jest won a small patch of Kelsy’s claim — 
about six foot by two, or thereabouts.” 

The sun had begun to tip the tops of the forest trees, 
when this exciting contest was ended, and all the party 
adjourned to the outside, with the doomed stranger in 
their midst. They moved with silence, for a deed of 
blood was to be enacted. The law of the wilderness 
was about to ofler up a victim for common safety — the 
midnight assassin to expiate his guilt upon the spot, and 
by the hand of him whom he had there endeavored to 
consign to death. — The music of the morning songsters 
met no harmonious accord in the hearts of those who 
now strode amid their melodies — the sweet morning air 
kissed brows fevered with passion, and the light breeze 
that played amid the forest grove and skipped innocently 
across the far spread prairie, was about to bear upon its 
pinions the shriek of agony. Having arrived at a suitable 
spot, they bound the culprit to a sapling, and he hung 
in his bonds already, apparently, bj'reft of life. 


THE PRE-EMPTION RIGHT. 


131 


Stick him up at a hundred yards, boys,” said Dick ; 
“ ef he is a snake^ give him a ‘ small show’ for life, and 
ef I miss him at the first fire we’ll let him 

The culprit aroused on hearing this, and plead for 
the smallest chance in the world. 

“ Don’t shoot me like a mad dog he exclaimed, in 
most piteous accents. 

“ You’re worse, you hound,” said his late antagonist; 

and if Dick don’t wind up your business for yoil, 1 
will.” 

“ Come, boys,” continued Dick, <‘you all know that 
this old iron’s certain^ so give the varmint this chance — 
it’ll please him, and he’ll die off all the easier!” 

After some persuasion, Dick’s request was acceded 
to, and the parties took their positions. Life hung, for 
the culprit, by but a thread, and that thread the will 
of Kelsy. Slowly the latter raised his rifle, while the 
party, breathless, intently fixed their eyes upon the 
victim. Dick’s hand began to tremble, and his aim 
became unsteady, for the sickly form of the stranger’s 
wife again seemed to rise and plead for mercy — he 
rested his rifle on the ground, without the heart to fire; 
but, in an instant the vision fled, and his eye fell clear 
upon the countenance of the stranger; a morning ray 
lighting up his features, exhibited a gleam of mingled 
triumph, hatred, hope, and revenge — there was no mis- 
taking its dark expression of contending passions. The 
pity that had almost unnerved Kelsy and saved his foe, 
vanished, and raising his rifle sudden as thought, the 
weapon rung out the stranger’s knell. As the ball from 
its muzzle sped through his brain, a wild shriek arose 
upon the air, and all was again still — they loosened his 
bonds, and he fell forward, dead! 


132 


YALLER PLEDGES. 


His remains were consigned to the earth without a 
tear, even from his companion, to whom the tragedy 
had been imparted. His cruelties had long since ob- 
literated from her heart the last spark of early fondness ; 
all she requested, when the grave had closed over him, 
was to be sent to her friends in Ohio, which was kindly 
done by the settlers — Dick bestowing upon her his whole 
stock of fine furs to defray her expenses. 

Kelsy set himself down in undisturbed possession of 
his claim, and Sam, his faithful slave, often points to 
the small green mound at the edge of the grove, wuth 
the ‘remark — 

‘‘ Dat’s Massa Dick’s signature to dis land claim — 
dat is 


YALLER PLEDGES; 

OR, THE FIGHT ABOUT SALLY SPILLMAN. 

It aint natral fur a fellar to tell of his gittin’ licked, 
but I must tell you about that thar fight between me and 
Jess Stout — it w^ar a screamer, by thunder ! and ef I did 
gin in, it warn’t in the course of human natur’ to do 
any how else. That gal spontenaceously hankered arter 
Jess, and besides, he’d piled up the affection in her, by 
an amazin’ long spell of courtin’. I did kinder edge 
into her likin’, and gin to speckelate big on throwin’ 
Jess, but that fight knocked my calculations all to frit- 
ters. I’m some in a bar fight, and co?isiderable among 
panters, but I warn’t no whar in that fight with Jess. 
In course, I’ll tell you, boys, so sot yourselves round, 
and pass along that corn juice. 


YALLER PLEDGES. 


133 


“You see, every time I come up from Lusiane, I 
found Jess hangin’ round that gal, Sally Spillman, 
lookin’ orful sweet, and a fellar couldn’t go near her 
without risin’ his dander — he was jealous as a hen with 
young chickens. I sot my eyes on her, to find out what 
Jess saw in her so amazin’ inticin’, and I swar ef a 
close examination didn’t make me yearn arter her like 
a weaned yearling. She was all sorts of a gal — thar 
warn’t a sprinklin’ too much of her — she stuck out all 
over jest far enough without cushinin’ — had an eye that 
would make a fellar’s heart try to get out of his bosom, 
and then sich har ; — her step was as light as a panter’s, 
and her breath sweet as a prairie flower. In my opi- 
nion, the mother of all human natur’ warn’t an atom 
slicker model ; she desarved the pick of a whole crea- 
tion, and I jest felt that I was made a purpose for her! 

“ At all the frolicks round the country, down in the 
Missouri bottom, or up the Osage, Jess was hangin’ 
arter that gal, lookin’ honey at her, and pizin at the fel- 
lars who spoke pleasin’ to her. I thort I’d try my hand 
at makin’ him oneasy, so one night, at a frolick, I sidled 
up to her and axed how she wur, and ef that ailin’ nig- 
ger of her daddy’s wur improvin’, what ’ud be the pro- 
bable amount of the old man’s tobaccer crop this season, 
and some other interestin’ matters of talk. She said 
that she was thrivin’, as usual, the nigger wur cornin’ 
on as well as could be expected, and the old man’s crop 
promised to be purty considerable. Nothin’ could be 
more satisfyin’, so I kept on a talkin’, and she got a 
laffin’, and Jess begun a scowlin’. I seed he warn't 
pleased, but I didn’t estimate him very tall, so I kept 
on, got a dancin’ with Sally, and ended by kissin’ her 


134 


YALLER PLEDGES. 


good by, that night, and makin’ Jess jealous as a pet 
pinter ! 

I war agoin to start to Lusiane next day, with a flat 
load of tobaccer and other groceries, and afore I went, 
I thort I’d send a present of my pet ‘ bar cub’ over to 
Sally, jest to have a sorter hitch on her till I’d git back ; 
so I gits my nigger Jim and gins him the followin’ note, 
with the bar cub, and special directions that he wur to 
give ’em both to Sally, herself : 

‘ Pan TER Crik, near Bar Diggins, 

Juin twenty 4. 

“ ‘ To THE captivatin’ Miss Sally Spillman : 

‘Your tender adorer, Sam Crowder, sends you the followiid 
fust trofy of a hunt on the Osage ; the condition of this bar are 
somethin’ like him, the bar are all fat, he are all tenderness ! 
Hopin’ that you will gin up a small corner of your heart to the 
writer, while he is among the furriners of Lusiane, he will ever 
remember you, and be sure not to furgit to bring a pledge of 
affection from the sunny south, to bind our openin’ loves. 

“ ‘Yours, with stream, or ogin it, 

‘ Sam Crowder. 

“ I studdyed that out with considerable diflficulty, and 
writ it with more, and ‘ stick me on a sand-bar’ ef that 
Jess didn’t way-lay Jim and read the note ! Maybe it 
didn’t stir up the alluvial bottom of his love fur Sally — 
the varmint’s countenance looked as riled as the old 
Missouri in a June rise. 

Off I started next day, with my flat, for the impo- 
rium of the south, and as I war floating along, I couldn’t 
help turnin’ over in my mind what a scrougin smart 
family the Crowders would be, when Sally and I agreed 
upon annexation. I jest thort I could see < young Sam,’ 
the fust boy, standin’ on the other eend of the flat, strong 


135 


plkdses. 

as a bar — eye like an Ingin — spry as a catamount — fair 
as Sally and keen as his daddy — I swar, I yelled rite 
out, thinkin’ on it. 

“ While I was in this way rollin’ in clover, by pic- 
turin’ what was to be, they wur tarin’ my character all 
to chitlins up at home. My perlite note was raisin’ a 
parfect freshet of wrath agin me. That display of 
lamin’, about bringin’ home a pledge of affection^ from 
tlie sunny south, most onaccountably oversot my whole 
family prospects. It wur a stumper to Sally, so she got 
Jess to explain it, and the way he did it was enormous. 

“ ‘ Why, don’t you see,’ ses Jess, < he means to 
bring you up one of his nigger children, from the south, 
to nuss! Nothing can be plainer — thar aint no other 
< pledges of affection’ than children, that I know on.’ 

“Well, I swar ef she didn’t believe him. 

“ ‘ The nasty dog,’ ses Sally, ‘ does he think I’m 
agoin to nuss any of his yaller pledges — ef them thar is 
all he’s got to offer, he aint wuth shucks, and ef you 
don’t lick him fur his onmannerly note, you aint wuth 
shucks, nuther.’ 

“ Not dreamin’ of the row at home, I was a huntin’ 
through Noo Orlins fur presents fur Sally. I bought a 
roll of ribbon, a pocket full of lace, and a bran new, 
shinin’ silk parasol, and was coinin’ along, slow and 
easy, by the St. Louis Exchange, when I heerd Major 
Beard cryin’ off a lot of field hands. I jest sauntered 
in as he was puttin’ up a picanninny ‘ yaller gal,’ about 
five years old. The little gal had no mammy livin’, 
and looked sorter sickly, so nobody seemed anxious to 
git her. I hollered fifty dollars, and the little creatur’ 
brightened up when she seed who was a biddin’ ; I 
didn’t look like a sugar or cotton planter, and the crea- 


136 


YALLEH PLEDGES. 


tur’ seemed glad that I warn’t. Some cotton fellar here 
bid sixty dollars, and she wilted rite down — I thort 
what a slick present she’d be fur Sally, and how well 
she’d do to tead the children, so I sung out seventy 
dollars ; she knew my voice, and I could see her eyelids 
trirnble. No sooner did the Major drop the hammer 
on seventy dollars, than she looked wuth a hundred, 
she was so pleased at my buyin’ her. She was a nice 
little creator’, but her har was oncommon straight. 

«« I started up home next day, with ray purchases, and 
sich a time as I had on the way. I got dreamin’ so 
strong about bein’ married to Sally, that I was etarnally 
wakin’ up huggin’ and kissin’ the pillows, as ef they 
Avur gals at a huskin’. At last I got home, tickled all 
to death at my future prospects. I met Jess at the 
landin’ — he gin me a starr, looked at the little yaller 
gal, and then spread himself with a guffaw, as ef he wur 
goin’ into fits. I riled up a little, but thought thar wur 
time enough to sarve him out, so I passed on. The 
fellars in the settlement seemed to be allfired pleased 
at my gittin’ back, fur they kept a grinnin’ and bowin’ 
and lookin’ at m}" little yaller gal. 

“‘Wont you take a little suthin’, Sam,’ said Jim 
Belt, the grocery keeper. 

“ ‘Not now, I thank you, Jim, ses I.’ 

“ ‘ What, you aint agoin’ in fur temperance pledges^ 
too, are you V asked Jim, and then the boys all holler’d 
as ef they’d bust thar heads. 

“ ‘Not ex-a-c-t-]y !’ ses I, rather slow, tryin’ all the 
time to find out what the fun war, but I couldn’t get it 
through my kiverin’ of /mr, so I gin it up and went 
home. Next day thar wur to be a campmeetin’ down 
in the bottom, and all the boys and gals wur agoin’ to 



^^Enongh!^' ses slie ; “Well, may I git ager fits, ef you’re fit fur anythin’ but 
to be the fatker y alter ‘pledges^ — Page l;^S. 



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YALLER PLEDGES. 


137 


it ; SO, to make a shine with Sally, I sent over word that 
I would call that mornin’ and bring with me my fust 
pledge of affecti(Ta^ meanin’ the parasol, and hoped it 
would be to her mind both in textur and color. Back 
came this note in anser : 

^Kune Holler, Juli 8. 

“ ‘ Miss Spillman’s compliments 

“ ‘ To Sam Crowder, Esq.; the fust pledge of his affections is a 
little too yaller^ and the textur of its har is too tight a curl, and, 
more’n that, she aint ambitious to hev any of his pledges ef tha 
wur all white. 

“ ^ Sally Spillman.’ 

“I nigh onto bust with madness ! — I could feel eveiy 
har on my head kindlin’ at the eend, ’cause I knew 
sum cussed lie had been told her, and I blamed Jess fur 
doin’ it. I jest swar a bible oath, I’d spile his pictur’ 
so he couldn’t enjoy campmeetin’ much ; so next mornin,’ 
bright and airly, I accidentally fell in with Jess, goin’ 
arter Sally, with all his Sunday kiverin’ on, lookin’ as 
nice as a « stall fed two year old.’ I rite up and asked 
him what he meant by tellin’ lies to the galls about me; 
that I’d hearn on ’em all over the settlement. 

« I haint told no lie on you,’ ses Jess, « fur what’s 
told, you told yourself — ef you hev nigger babies in the 
south, you needn’t insult decent white gals by offerin’ 
to let ’em nuss ’em — ’ 

“ I didn’t wait till he finished afore I hit him, blf 
alongside of his smeller, and went into him allfours, 
catamount fashion. The thing had now cum to a 
windin’ up pint — this fight war to eend the matter about 
Sally, and as I didn’t want to gin her up easy, I laid 
myself out fur a purty long spell. I could soon see by 
the way Jess went to work that he’d kalculated upon a 


138 


YALLER PLEDGES. 


pretty big chunk of a fight, too, so we both began to 
save ourselves. I had a leetle the advantage of Jess, 
for he didn’t want to spile his Sundify fix-ups, while I 
didn’t care a cuss fur my old boat suit. When I’d grab 
his trowsers and gin ’em a hitch, he’d ease off, and then 
I’d lend him a staggerer, which was generally follered 
by his makin’ me fly round like a weazel — cre-a-tion, 
how tough he war ! 

“ While we wur havin’ a rite smart time together, 
nary one of us seed Sally ridin’ along down the wagin 
track, lookin’ out fur Jess, but she seed us, hitched her 
horse, and climbed onto a stump to see the fight out. 
As I war carfully reachin’ fur Jess’ ear with my grinders, 
I heerd her sing out — 

‘ Tech it ef you dar ! — you nigger cannibal !’ 

Her hollerin’ gin Jess an advantage and helped his 
strength powerfully, fur the next miniti war on my back 
and him right astraddle on me. 

“ ‘ Sock your teeth into him, Jess !’ screamed Sally, 
and about then, je-e-e-miny fellars, I leaped as ef 
liglitnin’ had hit me, fur his grinders had met through 
the flesh she called his attention to. I squirmed, and 
struggled, and chawed meat, but he held on — I grabbed 
his new trowsers, and tore them like paper — he was 
agoin to let go to kiver his coat tails over the torn place, 
but Sally hollered out agin — 

< Whip the varmint fust and then I’ll mend ’em up!’ 
I squealed enough! rite out — it warn’t no use a 
fightin’ agin such odds. Arter Jess let me up, Sally 
looked at me, and puckered up her mouth as ef she had 
been eatin’ unripe persimmons- — 

Enough r ses she, ‘well, may I git ager fits, ef 
you’re fit fur anythin’ but to be the father of yaller 
pledges ” 


GEORGE MUNDAY, 


THE HATLESS PROPHET. 

This odd character has lately favored the west with a 
visit, and during two successive evenings he edified 
audiences, numbering about a thousand persons, in the 
rotunda of the St. Louis court-house. Some took him 
for the Wandering JeWj and as he inveighed against the 
evils of these modern days, they looked at him with a 
feeling of awe. One day opposite the Planter’s house, 
during a military parade, George was engaged selling 
his edition of the Advocate of Truth,” when a tall 
hoosier, who had been gazing at him with astonish- 
ment for some time, roared out in an immoderate fit of 
laughter. 

“What do you see so funny in me, to laugh at?” 
inquired George. 

“ Why, boss,” said the hoosier, “ I wur jest a thinkin’ 
ef I’d seed you out in the woods, with all that har on, 
they would a been the d — dest runnin’ done by this 
coon ever seen in them diggins — you’re ekill to the 
elephant! and a leetle the Aar-yest small man I’ve seen 
scart up lately.” 

A sight at George, on his western tour, has brought 
to my recollection an anecdote, which entitles him to a 
place in our collection of odd characters; — it occurred 
several years since, in Philadelphia, and the writer was 
an eye witness of the occurrence. 

George^s favorite neighborhood for “holding forth,” 
was in and about the famous old “ State House,” where, 

13R 


140 


GEORGE MONDAY. 


bare-headed — with unshorn beard, and adorned with a 
simple wooden cross, he, in a few moments, would col- 
lect a crowd. At length the police arrested him, for 
obstructing the passage, and George was sent to the 
Alms-House. In a few days, he escaped from the in- 
stitution, and, boiling with indignation, hastened back 
to his old haunt, to lay his grievances before the people. 
Having provided himself with a couple of gimlets, he 
entered the building, raised the large window above 
the back entrance, and, placing himself on the old- 
fashioned entablature over the door-way, (the same spot 
where the Declaration of Independence was read from,) 
he shut down the wdndow behind him, securing himself 
from interruption by boring his gimlets through the 
sash, into the frame. Then, with much solemnity, he 
proceeded to paraphrase the Declaration,” applying 
it to his own particular case. The scene was truly 
ludicrous. Below, was one of the high constables 
and an assistant policeman, together with a numerous 
crowd of curious hearers. 

When, in the course of human events” — began 
George. 

Will you come down from there?” demanded the 
constable. 

‘‘ A long train of abuses and takings up without 
authority, — ’’ 

“ Aint you a cornin’; now? — if you don’t J’ll bring 
you,” threatened authority. 

Our mayor, like the kings of old, set upon us 
swarms of corrupt and drunken officers to put the pro- 
phets of truth into pestilential abodes.” 

Now, do, George, stop your lingo — that’s a good 
fellow',” said the officer, coaxingly, seeing that the usual 


GEORGE MONDAY. 


means of reaching the offender were cut off; “ and come 
down without bother.’’ 

“ Look up!” shouted the indignanradvocate of truth, 

look up, you stiff-necked, corrupt son of Belial ! — 
you dog in office! — you, that belch forth the corrupt 
effluvium of liquid death, commonly styled ruml — you 
are the chief of a band of authorised knaves, composed 
of evil expounders of the law, otherwise called pettifog- 
gers^ and certain other rogues in office, who are styled 
“the police.” — You lead captive the senses of the 
mayor ^ who is as much bridled by your wickedness as 
the beast of the same name I — you cause him by your 
false tongues to do evil, but, there is a day coming — 
there is ! when, at a bar where your credit has long 
since been chalked out. I’ll make an qffidavy will knock 
you so far into the regions of darkness, that the final 
trump will sound like penny whistle to your ear! — do 
you hear that !” 

The policeman did hear that^ but his amiability could 
stand it no longer ; so, procuring a watchman’s ladder, 
he commenced climbing to the prophet, who coolly 
unscrewed his gimblets, hoisted the window, lifted up 
his robes, and, shouting “ woe to the wicked,” beat a 
successful retreat. 


COURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 


“ Courtin’ is all slick enough when every body’s 
agreed, and the gal aint got no mischief in her, but 
when an extensive family, old maids, cross daddy, and 
a romantic old mommy, all W'ant to put thur fingers 
into the young uns dish of sweet doin’s, and the gal’s 
fractious besides, why a fellar that’s yearnin’ arter mat- 
rimony is mity likely to git his fires dampened, or bust 
his biler.” 

Thus reasoned Tom Bent to a select party of river 
cronies, who were seated around him upon the boiler 
deck of a Mississippi steamer, as she sped along one 
bright night in June, somewhere in the neighborliood 
of Bayou Teche. The subject was courting, and on 
that particular question Tom was considered an oracle, 
for, besides having a nXroxig penchant for the fair sex, he 
had run many risks to ingratiate himself in their affec- 
tions. Tom was now fast falling into the sear and yel- 
low leaf of bachelorism, and although he had vowed 
unalterable affection to at least one fair one in each 
town between the mouth and the rapids, he still re- 
mained in unblessed singleness. 

‘‘How about that afarr of your’n with old Fecho’s 
gal, in St. Louis, Tom?” inquired one of the circle. 

“ What, that little French gal ?” inquired Tom, with 
a grin ; “ well, that thar was a salty scrape, boys, and 
though the laugh is agin me thar. I’m blessed if I don’t 
gin you the sarcumstince.” So Tom squared himself 
for a yarn, wet his lips with a little corn juice, took a 
small strip of Missouri weed, and “let out.” 


142 


COURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 


143 


‘‘That gal of old Fecho’s wur about the pootyest 
creatur, fur a foreigner, I ever took a shute arter ; her 
eyes jest floated about in her head like a star’s shadow 
on a Massissippi wave, and her model was as trim as 
the sreamer Eagle, ’sides, her paddles wur the cleanest 
shaped fixins that ever propelled anythin’ human, and 
her laugh rung like a challenge bell on a ‘ fast trip’ — it 
couldn’t be beat. She run into my aflecshuns, and I 
couldn’t help it. I danced with her at some on the 
balls in Frenchtown, and thar I gin to edge up and talk 
tender at her, but she ony laughed at my sweet’nin’. 
Arter a spell, when I cum it strong about aflecshun, 
and the needcessity of towin’ side and side together, 
she told me that her old daddy wouldn’t let her marry 
an American ! Ef I \yarn’t snagged at this, I wouldn’t 
say so. The old fellar wur a sittin’ on a bench smokin’ 
and lookin’ on at the dance, and I jest wished him a 
hot berth for a short spell. ‘ Well, Marie,’ said I, ‘ ef 
I melt the old man down will you gin in ?’ 

“ ‘ Oh,’ says she, ‘ you so vair strong at de vat you 
call coax, I shall not know how to say von leetel no.’ 

“ So havin’ fixed it all with her smooth as a full 
freight and a June rise, I drew up alongside of the old 
fellar, jest as he had cleared his chimley for a fresh draw 
of his pipe. Old Fecho had been a mountain trader, 
was strong timbered, not much the worse fur wear, and 
looked wicked as a tree’d bear. I fired up and gene- 
rated an inch or two more steam, and then blew off at 
him. ‘ That’s an onconscionable slick gal of your’n, 
Mounseer,’ says I, to begin with, and it did tickle his 
fancy to have her cracked up, ’cause he thought her 
creation’s finishin’ touch, — so did I ’ ‘ Oui, sair,’ says 


141 


COURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 


old Fecho, ‘she vair fine leetel gal, von angel wizout 
de ving, she is, sair, mine onl)^ von JUle."* 

“ ‘ Well, she is a scrouger^"^ answered I, ‘ a parfect 
high pressure, and no dispute !’ 

“‘Vat you mean by him, eh? vat you call 
s-c-r-r-r-ouge, eh? vat is he, sair, my leetel gal no vat 
you call von s-c-r-r-r-ouge, sair!’ and here old Fecho 
went off into a mad fit, jest as ef Fd called her bad 
names. I tried to put down his ‘ safety valve,’ but he 
would blow off his wrath, and workin’ himself into a 
parfect freshet of rage, he swore he would take the little 
gal off home ; and Pm blessed ef he didn’t. As soon 
as I eyed the old fellar startin’ I got in his wake and 
follered him, detarmined to find out whar he located, 
and arter an eternal long windin’ through one street arter 
another, down he dived into French Hollow. Jest as 
he wur about to enter a house built agin the side of the 
hill, the old fellar heered my footsteps, and turnin’ 
round in the darkness, he shouted — 

“‘Ah, ha! von sneak Yankee doodel, vat call my 
leetel gall von s-c-r-r-r-ouger, I shall cut you all up into 
von leetel piece vidout von whole.’ 

“ You know, boys, I aint easy skeer’d, but I own up 
that old fellar did kind a make me skeery ; they told 
sich stories about the way he used to skin Ingins, that 
I gin to think it was about best to let him have both 
sides of the channel ef he wanted it, so I didn’t darr go 
to see Marie fur a long spell. One day I felt a strong 
hankerin’, and jest strolled along the holler to git a 
glimpse on her, and sure enough thar she wur, a leanin’ 
out the wdnder, smilin’ like the mornin’ sun on a sleep- 
in-’ bayou. I sidled up to the house, and asked her ef I 
darr cum and sit up with hex that evenin’. I told her 


COURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 


145 


I was jest fritterin’ away all to nothin’ thinkin’ on her, 
and a small mite of courtin’ would spur me up amazin’, 
and then I gin her sich a look, that she fluttered into 
consent as easy as a mockin’ bird whistles. 

“ ‘ Oh, oui^ you shall come sometime dis night, when 
mon pere is gone to de cabaret ; but you must be vair 
quiet as von leetel rat, vat dey call de mouse, and go 
vay before he come back to de maison.^ 

‘‘ In course I promised to do jest as she said. I kissed 
my hand to her, and said aur ravoir^ as the French 
say for good by, and then paddled off to wait for night. 
I felt wuss than oneasy until the time arriv, and when it 
did git round I gin to crawl all over — I swar I was a 
leetle skeered. Hows’ever, it warn’t manly to back out 
now when the gal was expectin’ me, so I started for 
the Hollow. I think a darker night was never mixed 
up and spread over this yearth — you remember, Bill, 
the night you steered the old Eagle square into the bank 
at Milliken’s bend.^ well, it wur jest a mite darker than 
that! A muddy run winds along through the ravine 
whar the house stands, and I wur particularly near flop- 
pin’ into it several times. A piece of candle in the 
winder lighted me to whar the little gall was a waitin’, 
and when I tapped at the door below, she pattered down 
and piloted me up to the sittin’ room, whar we sot do\v>^ 
and took a good look at each other. She looked pooty 
enough to tempt a fellar to bite a piece out on her. 1 
had all sorts of good things made up to say when a 
chance offered, and here the chance wur, but cuss me 
ef I could get out the fust mutter. Whether it wur 
skeer at the idee of the old Frenchman, or a bilin’ up 
of affecshun fur his darter that stuck my throat so tight, 
I’m unable to swar, but thar I wur, like a boat fast on 
]9 


146 ^ CbURTING IN FRENCH HOLLOW. 

a sand-bar, blowin’ some, but makin’ mity little head- 
way. 

‘ Vat is de maitair wiz you, Mounseer ?’ said Marife, 
‘ you look vair much like de leaf in von grand storm, 
all ovair wiz de shake !’ 

<■ Well,’ says I, ‘ I do feel as ef I wur about to col- 
lapse a flue, or bust my biler, for the fact of the marter 
is, Marie, they say your old daddy’s a tiger, and ef I 
git caught here thar’ll be suthin’ broke — a buryin’ in- 
stead of a weddin’ ; — not that I’m the least mite skeered 
fur myself, but the old man might git hurt, and I should 
be fretted to do any sech a thing.’ 

‘Oh, mon amie, nevair be fear fur him, he is von 
great, strong as vat you call de gentleman cow ? — von 
bull, — but, mon Dieu! what shall I do wiz you, sup- 
pose he come, eh ? He vill cut you into bits all ovair !’ 

“ ‘ But, my angel,’ ses I, ‘he shant ketch me, fur I’ll 
streak it like a fast boat, the moment I hear steam from 
his scape-pipe — the old man might as well try to catch 
a Massissippi catty with a thread line, as git his fingers 
on me.’ I had no sooner said so, than hang! went the 
door below, and old Fecho, juicy as a melon, came 
feelin’ his way up stairs, mutterin’ like a small piece of 
fat thunder, and swarin’ in French, orfully. I know’d 
thar warn’t much time to spare, so I histed the winder 
and backed out. Jest as I was about to drop, Marie 
says to me — ‘ Oh, mon Dieu ! don’t drop into de veil /’ 
and instanter shut the winder. My.har riz on eend in 
moment — ^ donH drop into the welly I’ll tell you 
what, boys, a souse into the Massissippi in ice time 
warn’t half as cold as her last warnin’ made me. It was 
so etarnal dark that I couldn’t begin to tell which side 
of the buildin’ I wur on, and that wur an all important 


COURTING IN I T^KNCH HOLLOW. 147 

perticuler, fur it wur jest three stories high on one side, 
towards the Hollow, and it warn’t only one on the side 
next the hill — in course, all the chances wur in favor.of 
the well bein’ 'on the low side. I’d gin all I had then 
to know which side was waitin’ below fur me. I looked 
up, as I hung on, to see ef thar warn’t a star shinin’ 
somewhare, jest to give a hint of what was below^, but 
they’d all put on thar night caps, and wouldn’t be 
coaxed from under the kiver ; then I’d look below, and 
listen, until I made sartin in my mind that I could hear 
the droppin’ of w^ater, somewhare about ffty feet below 
me! Old Fecho was a tearin’ through the room, and 
a rippin’ out French oaths, in an oncommon rapid man- 
ner, and declarin’ that he knew some one had bin thar, 
fur he’d bin told so. Two or three times he appeared 
to be a rushin’ for the winder, and the little gal w^ould 
coax him back agin, and then he’d cuss de Yankee 
doodels, and grit his teeth most owdaciously. Well, 
ef I warn’t in an oneasy situation all this time, then I’m 
more than human — my arms jest stretched out to about 
a yard and a half in length, and gin to cramp and git 
orful w^eak. I couldn’t fur the life of me think on any 
prayer I’d ever heerd — at last, jest as one hand was 
givin’ way its hold, I thort of a short one I used to say 
when I was a younker, and mutterin’ — ‘ Here I drop 
me down deep, I pray the Lord my bones to keep!’ I 
sot my teeth together, drew a long breath, shut my eyes, 
and let go! — whiz! — r-r-r-ip! — hang! I went — as I 
supposed — about fifty feet ; and didn’t I holler, when I 
lit and rolled over, and the water soused all round me! 
‘Murder! oh, git me out, oh-o-o-o, mnvder! The 
people came a rushin’ out of their houses, with lights, 
and sich another jargon of questions as they showered 


148 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


at me — askin’, all together, who’d bin a stabbin’ me ? 
what wur the marter ? and who’d hit me ? I opened 
my eyes to tell ’em I’d fell from the third story, and 
broke every bone in my body, when, on lookin’ up, 
thar wur the old Frenchman and his darter, grinnin’ out 
of the top winder, about ten feet above me ! The fact 
wur, boys, I’d dropped out on the hill side of the house, 
and jumped down jest four feet from whar my toes 
reached, — I had lit on the edge of a water pail, and it 
flowed about me when I fell over! Arter old Fecho 
told them the joke, they pretty nigh busted a larfin’ at 
me. I crawled off, arter firin’ a volly at old Mounseer, 
of the hardest kind of cusses, and from that day to this 
J han’t gone a courtin’ in French Hollow! 


THE SECOND ADVENT! 

TOM BANGALL, THE ENGINEER, AND MILLERISM. 

About the period fixed upon by Father Miller, for the 
general blowing up of the world, some of the engineers 
upon our western waters, who had been used to blowing 
up its inhabitants, became a little frightened at the 
prospect of having to encounter, in another world, the 
victims of steamboat disaster. Among these was Tom 
Bangall, the engineer of the Arkansas Thunder. Tom 
was a rearing, tearing, har state scrouger — could chaw 
up any single specimen of the human race — any quantity 
of tobacco, and drink steam without flinching! — A col- 
lapsed flue had blown him once somewhere in the alti- 
tude of an Alpine height, but dropped him unharmed 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


149 


into the Arkansas, and he used to swear that after the 
steam tried to jerk him apart and found it couldn’t do 
it, why, it just dropped the subject^ as the stump speakers 
say, by dropping him into the << drink” — he therefore in- 
continently set water, hot or cold, at defiance. Tom 
was, withal, a generous, open-hearted, whole-souled fel- 
low, and his cheering words to the emigrants on the boiler 
deck, and many a kind act to a suffering passenger, 
proved that beneath his rough exterior he had a heart 
open to gentle influences. As a further proof of this, 
Tom had a wife, a good wife, too, and what’s more he 
tenderly loved her; but she in vain tried to cure him 
of drinking and sw^earing. Tom swore that he would 
swear, that a steamboat wouldn’t work without some 
swearing, and if a fellar didn’t drink he’d bust, and, 
therefore, it was necessary to take a bust now and then 
to keep out of danger. There is no use,” he would 
say, “ in blowing off steam from your ’scape-pipe agin 
it, for it has to be did 

One day on Tom’s return home, he found Mrs. Mary 
Bangall w’eeping bitterly, and Tom became, instantly, 
correspondingly distressed. 

‘‘Why, Polly,” inquired he, “what’s the matter, 
gal ? — what’s hurt you ? — is anythin’ broke loose that 
can’t be mended? — w'hat the thunder makes you take 
on so ? — Come, out with the cause, or I shall git a 
blubberin’ too.” 

“ Only look here, Tom,” said Mary, “ here’s a whole 
account of hoW' the w'orld is going to be destroyed this 
April. — Every thing has been counted up by Father 
Miller, and the sum total’s a general burn ! Now, Tom, 
don’t swear, nor drink any more or you won’t be able 
to stand the fire no more than gunpowder!” 


150 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


Tom indulged in a regular guffaw at her distress, 
and told her she was a fool to be frightened at that — 
it was all moonshine — humbug — smoke, — that Father 
Miller was an old granny, and it warn’t possible — any- 
how he warn’t afraid of fire, so it might fire away 

<‘But, Tom,” continued Mary, “let me read to you 
the proof — it’s irresistible, Tom, — the times and the 
halftimes^ are so correctly added up that there can be 
no mistake, and if you don’t make some preparation we 
will be separated for ever.” 

The idea of a separation from Mary troubled Tom, 
but full of incredulity he sat down to listen, more to 
please her, and find something in the adding up of the 
catastrophe that would upset it. Mary commenced 
reading, and Tom quietly listening, but as she read the 
awful evidences of a general conffagration, the signs of 
the times, the adding up of the times, the proof of their 
meaning, and the dreadful consequences of being un- 
prepared — with ascension robes, Tom grew serious, and 
at length looked a little frightened. He didn’t want 
Mary to see its effect upon him, and so assumed an over 
quantity of indifference, but it was useless for him to 
attempt hiding his feelings from her prying eyes — she 
saw Miller’s doctrine was grinding a hopper of fear in 
Tom’s heart, and felt glad to see its effect. When she 
ceased he remarked, with a half-frightened laugh, that 
Father Miller ought to be burnt for thus trying to frighten 
people, and, “as for them eastern fellars, they are half 
their life crazy any how!” 

Having tried thus to whisper unconcern to his troubled 
spirit, Tom set out for the boat, with the firm resolve, 
if he caught a Millerite to save him from the threatened 
burning by drowning him, for disseminating any such 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


151 


fiery doctrines. When he got on board he told the 
captain what had transpired at home, — how his wife 
had got hold of a Miller document from a travelling dis- 
ciple, and, as well as he could, rehearsed the awful 
contents which she had read to him. The captain, ob- 
serving the effect they had produced on Tom, seriously 
answered that the matter looked squally, and he was 
afraid them documents were all too 

“ True !” shouted Tom, “ why, you aint green enough 
to swallow any such yarn — its parfectly rediculous to 
talk about burnin’ every thing up. Pd like to see old 
Miller set fire to the Massissippi !” 

‘‘Its no funny matter, Tom,” replied the captain, 
“ and if you keep going on this way you will find it so.” 

“Here, give us somethin’ to drink!” shouted Tom 
to the bar-keeper, (he began to get terrified at the 
serious manner with which the captain treated Millerism) 
“ come. Bill,” said he, addressing the clerk, “ let’s 
take a drink.” 

The clerk, who was a wag, saw through the captain’s 
joke in a minute and when he winked at him, refused 
to taste, adding as an apology that “ on the eve of so 
awTul an event as the destruction of the w^orld, he couldn’t 
daringly indulge as he formerly did, so he must excuse 
him.” 

“Well, go to h — 11, then,” says Tom, half mad. 

The captain sighed, and the clerk put his hand upon 
his heart, and turned his eyes upw’ard, as if engaged in 
inward prayer for his wicked friend. Tom swallow’ed 
his glass, and bestowing a fierce look upon the pair 
remarked, that “ they couldn’t cume any of them thar 
shines over him, he w^asn’t any of that chicken breed 

“ Poor fellow’,” muttered the captain. 


152 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


««Alas! Thomas,” chimed in the clerk. 

Tom slammed the cabin door after him as he went 
out to descend below, swearing at the same time that 
all the rest of the world were turning damned fools as 
well as old Miller. 

Steam was raised and the Thunder started. For a 
time Tom forgot the predicted advent, but every time 
he came up to the bar to get a drink, the serious look 
of the captain and the solemn phiz of the clerk, threw a 
cold chill over him, and made him savage with excite- 
ment. Every passenger appeared to be talking about 
Millerism, besides, a waggish friend of the captain’s, a 
passenger on board, having been informed of the engi- 
neer’s state of mind, passed himself off as a preacher of 
the doctrine, and talked learnedly on the prophecies 
whenever the engineer was nigh. It was comic to see 
the fierce expression of their victim’s countenance, and 
how, in spite of himself, he would creep up to the cir- 
cles where they were discussing the Second Advent, 
and listen with all ears to the rehearsal of its terrible 
certainty, then making for the bar, take another drink, 
and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets start down 
to the engine, with a scowl upon his swart countenance 
that would almost start a flue head from its fastenings. 

O 

I’d quit this boat,” said Tom to his assistant, “ if 
it warn’t so near ‘ the 25th of April,’ — cuss me if I’d 
stay aboard another minit, fur captain and all hands are 
a set of cowardly pukes 

“ Why, what’s the 25th of April got to do with your 
leavin’, Tom.?” inquired his partner. 

Nothin’ particular, but if this confounded blow up 
or burn up should come off on that day, I wan’t to be 
on the river — its safer; but if I should leave now I 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


153 


couldn’t get on another boat by that time, and then I’d 
be in a hot fix.” 

Here was a tacit confession by Tom, that he thought 
there was danger, and that there might be some truth 
in old Miller’s prediction. The fact of his fears was 
forthwith communicated to the captain and clerk by 
Tom’s partner, and his sufferings became increased — ■ 
he could hear no sounds but — advent — Miller — hlow-up 
— dreadful destruction ! — until his suspense became so 
horrible, that he wished for any termination so it would 
put an end to his dread. His partner ventured to in- 
crease his uneasiness by talking to him on the subject, 
but Tom threatened to brain him if he said anything 
about it in his presence — he remarked that “the noise 
of the engine was his only peace, and no frightened, 
lubberly sucker should disturb it by talking Millerism — 
if Miller was a goin’ to burn the world, why, let him 

burn and be (here, Tom for the first time checked 

an oath, and finished the sentence with) never mind, 
just let him hurn^ that’s all.” 

Starting up to the bar, without looking to right or 
left, he presented a bottle, had it filled with liquor and 
retreated, resolved to go as little as possible near either 
captain or clerk, for their solemn looking faces were 
contagious — they looked disaster. 

At length the 25th of April dawned, and wdth its ad- 
vancing hours Tom got tight ^ that is to say, so near 
intoxicated that he could only move around with ex- 
treme difficulty — he knew what he was about, but very 
little more. Sundry mutterings which he gave voice 
to, now and then, proclaimed the spirit at w'ork within, 
and it would say : — 

“ Burn, ha ! — burn up, will it ! — goin’ to take a regu- 


154 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


lar bust and blow itself out! Great world, this! — 
g-r-e-a-t world, and a nice little fire it will be !’’ Then, 
thinking of Mary, he would continue — Poor.Mary — 
what a shock it will be to her, but she’s on the safe side, 
for she belongs to raeetin’ — and then he would get 
wrathy — Let the old world burn, and go to splintered 
lightnin’ — who cares } — The captain and clerk’s got on 
the safe side, too, — they’re afraid of the fire, eh?” 
Then he would cautiously emerge from his place by the 
engine, and peep out upon the sky, to see if the work 
of destruction was about to commence, and then return- 
ing, take another pull at the whiskey, until, by his fre- 
quent libations, he not only got hlue^ but every thing he 
looked at was multiplying — he was surrounded by a 
duplicate set of machinery — even his fist, that he shook 
at the intruding cylinder and piston rod, became doubled 
before his eyes, and all assumed the color of a brimstone 
blue! Tom became convinced, in his own mind, that 
the first stage of the general convulsion had commenced ! 

Hello ! — back her !” shouted the captain, give her 

a lick back ! — starboard wheel, there !” 

It’s all up, now,” muttered Tom, let’s see you 
lick her back out of this scrape,” and staggering towards 
the steam valves, to try the amount of water in the 
boilers, he fell sprawling ; at that moment the boat struck 
the bank with a bang that shook every timber in her ; 
the concussion, also, injured a conducting steam-pipe 
just enough to scald Tom’s face and hands severely, 
without endan^erinsr his life. As the stream of hot va- 
pour hit him, he rolled over, exclaiming : — 

“ Good God ! — it’s all up, now!” and soon became 
utterly insensible 

Tom was picked up and carried into the Social Hall, 


THE SECOND ADVENT. 


155 


where restoratives were administered to recall him to 
consciousness, and remedies applied to heal his burns. 
All gathered in silence and anxiety around his pallet, 
watching for returning sensibility, the captain and clerk 
among the number, really grieved at the mishap, w’hich 
they had no doubt was caused by their jest. While all 
breathlessly looked on, Tom gave manifestations of re- 
turning consciousness: of course, with sensibility re- 
turned feeling, and his burns appealed, most touchingly, 
to that sense. Twisting himself up, and drawing his 
breath through his teeth, he slowly remarked : — 

‘‘Jest as I thought — the d — I’s got me, s-l-i-c-k 
enough, and Pm burnt already to a cinder!” 

There w’as no resisting this — all hands burst into a 
roar of laughter. Tom couldn’t open his eyes, but he 
could hear, and after they had done laughing, he quietly 
remarked : — 

“ These imps are mightily glad because they’ve got me/” 

Here followed another roar, and w'hen it subsided, the 
captain approached him, and called his name — 

“ Tom, old fellow,” said he, you’re safe!” 

“ What, you here, too, captain ? I thought you had 
jined meetin’ and saved your bacon. — So they’ve got 
you, too, — w^ell, a fellar aint alone then.” 

Here the clerk spoke to him. 

“ What, you, too. Bill ? — well, ‘ there’s a party of us,’ 
any how^, but it’s so confounded dark I can’t see you, 

and its hotter than (here he checked himself wuth a 

shudder, and added,) Yes, Pm certain w'e’re ihar !'^ 
sighing heavily, he murmured — “Poor Mary — Oh, my 
Mary.” 

By the efforts of the captain and clerk Tom w^as made 
to understand the true .state of the case, and through 


156 


SETTLEMENT FUN. 


their kindness and attention, was soon able to return to 
duty, and though he would after laugh at a jest about 
old Father Miller, yet he was never again known to 
drink whiskey. When irritated now, Tom always shuts 
his lips tight, and chokes down the rising oath. Mary 
is gratified with the change, although she wept at the 
severity of the means by which he was converted. 


SETTLEMENT FUN. 

BILL sapper’s letter TO HIS COUSIN. 

Liberti, Missury,--3Iay 6t. 18 forty 5. 

Cousin Jim, tha aint nuthin’ occurred wuth ritin’ 
about in our settlemm^ fur a long spell, but about the 
beginnin’ of last week, thur war a rumor sot afloat in 
town, which kept the wimen for twm or three days in 
a continooal snigger, and it war half a day afore the 
men could find out the rights of the marter — sech an- 
uther fease as all the gals got inter, war delightful to 
contemplate. The boys kept a askin’ one anuther, 
what in the yearth wur the marter, that the gals kept a 
whisperin’ and laffin’ round town so — at last it cum 
out ! and what do you think, Jim, wur the marter ? — 
You couldn’t guess in a week. It aint no common 
occurrence, and yet it’s mighty natral. Little Jo Allen, 
the' shoemaker, had an addition to his family, amountin’ 
to jest three babbys — one boy and two gals ! His wife is 
a leetle creator’, but I reckon she’s some” in countin’ 
’he census, and sech anuther excitement as her little 
brood of pretty babbys has kicked up among the wimen, 


SETTLEMENT FUN. 


157 


is perfectly inlicin’ to bachelors. When the interestin’ 
marter war furst noised about, the wimen wouldn’t be- 
lieve it, but to know the rights of it tha put on thur 
bonnets and poured down to see little Mrs. Allen, in a 
parfect stream of curiosity ; and, sure enough, thar tha 
wur, three raal peert lookin’ children, all jest alike. Bein’ 
an acquaintance of Jo’s he tuck me in to see his family, 
and it wur raaly an interestin’ sight to see the little 
creaturs. Thar tha wur, with thur tiny faces aside 
each other, hevin on the prettiest caps, — all made and 
fixed by the young wimen, as a present to the mother, — 
and then thur infantile lips jest openin’, like so many 
rose buds poutin’, while thur bits of hands, transparent 
as sparmacity, wur a curtin’ about and pushin’, all 
doubled up, agin thur little noses, and thur mother all 
the time lookin’ at ’em so peert and pleased, jest as 
ef she war feelin’ in her own mind tha war hard to beat 
— addid to which, thar stood thur daddy ^ contemplatin’, 
with a glow of parentil feelin’, the whole unanimous pic- 
tur! It aint in me, Jim, to fully describe the univarsel 
merits of sech a scene, and I guess it couldn’t receive 
raal jestis from any man’s pen, ’cept he’d ben the 
father of twins at least. 

‘‘ Gracious me,” sed Mrs. Sutton, a very literary 
woinin, who allays talks history on extra occasions, 
‘‘ ef that little Mrs. Allen aint ekill to the mother of 
the Grashir^ 

She looked at little Jo, the daddy, fur a spell, and 
tuk to admirin’ him so that she could scacely keep her 
hands off on him — she hadn’t no babbys, poor womin ! 

‘‘ Ah, Mister Allen,” ses she, “you are suthin’ like 
a husbind — you’re detarmin’d to descend a name down 
to your ancesters 


0 


158 


SETTLEMENT FUN. 


I raaly believe she’d a kissed him ef thur hadn’t ben 
so many wimen thar. The father of the babbys wur 
mitely tickled at furst, ’cause all the wimen wur a 
praisin’ him, but arter a spell he gin to look skary, for 
go whar he would he found some wdmen tryin’ to git 
a look at him — tha jest besieged his shop winder, all 
the time, and kept peepin’ in, and lookin’ at him, and 
askin’ his age, and whar he cum from ? At last sum 
of the gals got so curious tha asked him whar he did 
cum from, any how, and as soon as he sed Indianee, 
Dick Mason becum one of the popularest young men 
in the settlement, among the wimen, jest ’cause he wai 
from the same state. 

Things went on this way fur a spell, till at last tha 
heerd of ’em in the country, and the wimen all about 
found some excuse to come to town to git store goods, 
jest a purpose to see the babbys and thur parents. The 
little daddy war wusser plagued now, and they starr’d 
at him so that he couldn’t work — the fact wur his mind 
war gittin’ troubled, and some of the wimen noticed the 
skary look he had out of his eyes, and kept a wonderin’ 
what it meant. One mornin’ it war noticed by some 
of the gals that his shop warn’t open’d, so tha got in- 
quirin’ about him, and arter a sarch he cum up missin’ 
— well, I’m of the opinion thar wur an excitement in 
town then, fully ekill to the president’s election. Every 
womin started her husbind out arter Jo, with orders 
not to cum back without him, and sech a scourin’ as 
tha gin the country round would a caught anythin’ 
human — it did ketch Jo — on his road to Texas! When 
tha got him back in the town agin, a committee of 
married men held a secret talk with him, to larn what 
the marter wur, that he wanted to clear out, and Jo 


SETTLEMENT FUN. 


159 


told ’em that the wimen kept a starin’ at him so he 
couldn’t work, and ef he war kept from his bisness, 
and his family continooed to increase three at a time, 
he’d git so cussed poor he’d starve, and tharfore he 
knew it ’ud be better to clar out, for the wimen would 
be sure to take good care of his wife and the babbys. 

Old Dr. Wilkins wur appinted by the men to wait on 
a meetin’ of the wimen, and inform them of the fact, 
that tha wur annoyin’ the father of the three babbys, 
and had amost driven him out’n the settle?7icn^. The 
Doctor, accordin’ to appintment, informed the wdmen, 
and arter he had retired tha went into committee of the 
whole, upon the marter, and appinted three of thur 
number to report at a meetin’, on the next evenin’, a 
set of resolutions tellin’ what tha’d do in the premises, 
and governin’ female action in the partickler case of Jo 
Allen, his lit^e wife, and three beautiful healthy babbys. 

When the hour of meetin’ had arriv, Mrs. Sutton’s 
parlors wur crowded with the wimen of the settlewicw^, 
and arter appinten Widder Dent to the cheer tha reported 
the committee on resolves reddy, and Mrs. Sutton bein’ 
the head of the committee she sot to work and read the 
followin’ drawn up paper : — 

Whereas^ It has ben sed by the wise Solomon of old 
that the world must be peopled, tharfore, we hold it to 
be the inviolate duty of every man to git married, and, 
moreover, rear up citizens and future mothers to our 
glorious republick ; and, 

WhereaSy It .is gratifyin’ to human natur’, the world 
in gineral, Missury at large, and Liberty in partickler, 
that this settleme?!^ has set an example to the ancesters 
of future time, which will not only make the wimen of 
this enlightened state a pattern for thur children, but a 


160 


SETTLEMENT FUN. 


envy to the royal wimen of Europe, not forgettin’ the 
proud mother of the Lions of Ingland, but will elevate 
and place in and among the furst families, fur ever here- 
arter, the mother that has shed such lustre upon the 
sex in gineral ; and 

Whereas^ It is the melancholy lot of some to be de- 
prived of doin’ thar duty in the great cause of human 
natur’, because the young men is back’ard about speak- 
in’ out, it is time that some measures be taken inimical 
to our general prosperity, and encouragin’ to the risin’ 
generation of young fellars round town ; tharfore. 

Resolved^ That, as married wimen, our sympathies, 
like the heavin’ of natur’s bosom, yearns with admira- 
tion and respect fur that little womin, Mrs. Allen, and 
as we see her three dear little babbys, reclinin’ upon 
thur mother’s female maternal bosom, our heatin’ hearts 
with one accord wish we could say ditto. ^ 

Resolved^ That in the case of Mrs. Allen we see an 
illustrious example of the intarnal and extarnal progress 
of that spreadin’ race, the Angel Saxons ; and time will 
come when the mothers of the west will plant thar 
glorious shoots from one pinnacle of the Rocky Moun- 
tains to the tother, and until thar cry of liherti will be 
hollered from one pint to the next in a continooal 
skreech ! 

Resolved^ That Mister Joseph Allen, the father of 
these three dear little babbys, shall receive a monument 
at his deth^ and while he is livin’, the wimen shall ony 
visit his shop once a week to look at him, ’cept the 
married wimen, who shall be permitted to see him 
twice a week and no offener, pervided and exceptin’ 
lha want to git measured fur a par of shoes. 

Resolved^ Mister Joseph Allen shall hev the custom 


DOING ” A LANDLORD. 161 

of the whole settlemew#, for he is a glorious livin’ ex- 
ample of a dotin’ husbind. 

Arter these resolutions had ben unanimously passed, 
Mrs. Sutton addressed the meetin’, in a stream of ele- 
gance, wharin she proved, clar as a whistle, mat a 
family war the furst consideration fur a settler in a new 
country and town lots the arter question. She ac- 
knowledged the corn,” she sed, “ that it war soothin’ 
to look offen at thur neighbor Allen, but his peace of 
mind war the property of his family, and she hoped the 
ladies wouldn’t disturb it, ’cause the loss of sech a 
husbind, would be a sufferin’ calamity to the settlerTien^.” 

The meetin’ adjourned, and Jo went back to work, 
singin’ and whistlin’ as happy as usual, and ever sence 
he’s had a parfect shower of work, for the gals all round 
the country keep goin’ to him to git measured, tha say 
he desarves to be incouraged. 

Your furst Cousin, 

Bill Sapper. 


“DOING” A LANDLORD. 

A STORY OF SHAPE AND TALENT. 

Tom C. H , Esq., a genius, whose ideas of life 

were on such a magnificent scale that they outran his 
interest, capital and all, was seated upon the porch 
of a fashionable hotel, in a large eastern village^ 
one bright Monday morning, cogitating how, in the 
nature of things, it was possible for him to compass a 
dinner. The long score, unpaid, which stood recorded 
2J 


162 ‘‘DOING ” A LANDLORD. 

on the books within, precluded the idea of getting one 
there without the tin., and numerous searches through 
sundry pockets about his person were unrew^arded by a 
single shiner. The case w’as desperate, but great minds 
are always equal to great emergencies, and Tom’s was 
of that order. His coat had been renovated by a scourer, 
for whom he had written a love letter, his hat had 
been ironed by a good-natured hatter, who had enjoyed 
his custom in better days, a new coat of japan varnish 
had been lavished upon his cane, his dicky was passable, 
and no gentleman would think of examining the extre^ 
mities of his covering, or pry into the shifts he had been 
put to for a shirt. Tom thought himself passable, and 
he resolved to pass off for a dinner, if possible. A 
stranger lolling easily on a settee near him looked vul- 
nerable, and Tom, approaching him in a very bland and 
friendly manner, refioarked : — 

“ Excuse me, sir, but you look so like an old friend 

of mine, J. B , who has resided for years in the 

south, that I can’t help addressing you.” 

“ I am from the south, sir,” answered the stranger, 
courteously, “but not the person you speak of — know 
him, however, and am pleased to encounter a friend 
of his.” 

“ That’s it,” said Tom to himself, “ got him as easy 
as rolling off a log!” 

An animated conversation ensued, which ended by 
Tom being asked to dine, and when the gong pro- 
claimed the table spread, in walked the stranger and 
Tom, arm-in-arm, large as life and twice as natural. He 
called the waiters with an air of ease, passed the stranger’s 
wine with friendly freedom, laughed musically, jested 
wdth spirit, wdped his mouth with grace, and, in short, 


DOING ” A LANDLORD. 


163 


completely captivated the southerner. During the 
period of Tom’s luxuriating, he was observed by the 
landlord, who, indignant, sent a servant to order him 
from the table. Tom had “ come it” over him for so 
many odd dinners, without a shadow of prospect for 
pay, that he would stand it no longer. The servant 
approached, whispered in his ear, and stood off to give 
him room to move. Tom clutched the wine bottle, with 
the intention of hurling it at his head, but altered his 
purpose, and poured out another glass, drank it off, 
looked daggers at the servant, and in a moment more 
smiled confidence upon his friend. 

“ Would you believe it,” said Tom,, to the southerner, 
“ that since my absence from the city for a few days 
past, a rival house of our shipping firm has whispered 
the possibility of our failure, and this rascally landlord, 
having heard the calumny, has insulted me here at table 
by sending a servant to demand the trifling sum I owe 
him.” 

The southerner was burning with indignation. 

It is too humiliating;” added Tom, ‘‘not dreaming 
of such an outrage, I am entirely unprovided at the 
moment.” 

“Here, my. dear fellow,” promptly proffered his 
friend, “ here is my pocket-book, make use of it with- 
out hesitation.” 

“ You’re very kind,” said Tom, “ very, I will but 
borrow this thousand dollar bill for a moment — I know 
the rascal can’t change it!” 

With an air of offended dignity, Tom approached 
the office of the hotel, the landlord, frowning with anger, 
stood at the desk, the offended “ diner out,” put his 
hand to his eyes, as if hiding deep emotion, and then 


164 


DOING ” A LANDLORD. 

addressing the landlord in a grief-stricken voice, lie 
said : 

I never areained of such an insult from you^ sir, at 
such a time, too, just as my uncle in the south has. 
expired, — and his agent with me to deliver up the por- 
tion bequeathed to me — it is — it — sir, I cannot express 
in language my feelings. Take out of that the paltry 
sum I owe you,” — throwing down the thousand dollar 
bill, — and henceforth I never will enter your door. 
Just at a time too,” he further added, “ when I had 
intended to make your house my home, and endeavor 
to make some return for your forbearance. It is too 
much — my feelings are lacerated,” and here he became 
almost overpowered by emotion. 

The strip of crape around his hat — put there to hide 
the greasy band — the thousand dollar bill, and the 
renovated coat, whicj^ looked like new on the possessor 
of such a sum, all assured the landlord that he had been 
hasty. He, therefore, denied the indignity, straight, 
said that it was an impertinence of his servant, who had 
twice before offended his best guests by his insolence, 
and assured Tom that he would discharge the fellow 
forthwith — pushed back to him the thousand dollar bill, 
and begged he would forget the circumstance- — indeed, 
he felt shocked that such an outrage had been perpe- 
trated upon his oldest friend and customer. These 
warm expressions mollified Tom’s wrath, and folding 
up his bill he walked back, resumed his seat, returned 
the bill to the southerner, merely remarking he had 
brought the landlord to his feelings,” and cheerfully 
sipped a little iced champagne. As he left the table 
arm-in-arm with his freind, the landlord approached, 
bowing, and begged to know where he should send for 


« DOING ” A LANDLORD. 


165 


his trunk, as No. 24, a fine airy room, which w^ould 
suit him to a charm, was at present empty. Tom said 
he would send the baggage up, and after lighting a 
choice Havana, strolled out with an air aristocratic. 

In good time, the trunk arrived — a rude one, but 
very heavy. The landlord winked as the servant bent 
beneath its weight, and remarked, as he paid the por- 
terage, that a large quantity of bullion was generally 
rather heavy. Tom w^as in clover — the thousand dol- 
lar bill got whispered about, and one of his creditors, a 
fashionable tailor, insisted on trusting him for another 
suit; he yielded, after much persuasion, and it was 
astonishing how everything altered with Tom’s appear- 
ance. His note was good for any small sum now, and 
it was a pleasure to make his acquaintance. 

In the course of about six months the landlord thought 
he would just hint to Tom that a small check would be 
agreeable, as they were hard pushed. The hint w’as 
given, and he received a check — anything but a cash 
one, though. Tom very coolly informed him that the 
agent who had raised his hopes w^as a rascally impostor. 

But the thousand dollar bill, Mr. H. said the 
landlord, inquiringly. 

“ Was handed to me, by the rogue, to keep up ap- 
pearances,” coolly responded Tom. 

I shall seize your baggage, sir!” cried the enraged 
host. 

“ I can’t help it, my dear fellow^,” said Tom ; you 
know if I had a < pocket full of rocks, ^ you should share 
them, for I like you, vastly — I do — cuss me if I don’t; 
so keep cool, and keep the baggage until I make a 
draw and raise the little sum.” 

The trunk toas seized, and so roughly that it burst 


166 


WHO IS GEORGE SIMPSON ? 


open, when the landlord discovered that if Tom had no 
poclcet full of rocksy it was because he had stowed them 
all in his trunk, and that accounted very naturally for 
its being so heavy ! 


WHO IS SIR GEORGE SIMPSON? 

AN EXTRAORDIK VRY CIRCUMSTANCE ABOUT HIM. 

An esteemed fri md of ours, who now, heaven rest 
his spirit, sleeps in the tomb, had a curious method of 
relating a story; and if his hearer was of an impatient 
nature, it would be sorely tried before he heard the con- 
clusion of any ya n the Consul” might start to favor 
him with. On me occasion, some months since, he 
seated himself at my elbow, while I was busily perusing 
a piece of newi m which Sir George Simpson’s name 
appeared, and taking the knight’s cognomen for a text, 
he insisted on relating to me an extraordinary circum- 
stance, '•‘ihich drew forth a correspondingly extraordi- 
nary remark from the said Sir George. With a pencil, 
unperceived by the relater, I stenographed his story, 
nearly word for word, and as it is replete with interest, 
I do not feel justified in withholding it at the present 
time from the public ; so, here it is : — 

Pll tell you an extraordinary circumstance about 
George Simpson,” said the “ Consul.” “ You see, 
when I was at my brother’s, on Staten Island, some years 
since — at his country seat, living with his family — (my 
brother Bill, it was) — there was some six children, and 
J lived at home there — the oldest not more than fourteen, 


WHO IS SIR GEORGE SIMPSON? 


167 


and I used to take him out hunting with me ; — the 
young rascal was a good shot, too ! You see I was 
there at that time on my oars, doing nothing, and had 
plenty of time to spare, which I used to fill up by fish- 
ing and hunting, sometimes for days together — pretty 
poor luck at that, often, but I didn’t care, as time wasn’t 
valuable. Well, you see, my brother Bill used to invite 
some of the people in the neighborhood to dinner, and 
often there were distinguished visiters on the island — it’s 
a first rate place in summer — and Bill had every thing 
nice on his table ; he took some trouble to keep it fine, 
and he had a reputation for being a good liver. You 
could see he liked good things by his appearance, for 
he was corpulent. Well, you 'see. Sir George Simpson 
happened to be invited to dine — Sir George, the Scotch- 
man, old fellow — belonging to the Hudson Bay Fur 
Company ; Scotch as the devil ! — old tory at that ; he 
has travelled all over the north-western territory, and 
Oregon, and clear up to Behring’s Strait ; knows the 
worth of a wild-cat skin in any market in the world, old 
Sir George does — a cursed old Jew, too ! Well, as w^e 
were all seated at the table — I on my brother Bill’s 
right, and Sir George on his left — (Sir George was 
dressed in check pants and a snuff-colored coat, looking 
as pompous as the red lion of England, although he was 
only a Scotch clerk of the Fur Company) — just as Bill’s 
oldest boy asked for something at table, and I was help- 
him to a bit of veal kidney — the young rascal was 
fond of kidney, and would have it when it was on the 
table — says Sir George, says he — and my brother Bill, 
who was just turning up his plate at the time, stopped 
and laid down his fork, and I turned round to hear what 
he had to say — (the old fellow^ always spoke slow, with 


163 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


considerable Scotch accent, and every body wanted to 
hear — it’s the most extraordinary circumstance or re- 
mark, whichever you please, as I said, that ever I 
heard) — says Sir George, says he, “ I shouldnH wonder 
if we have to fight about Oregon yetV* 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 

BY A FORWARD CHILD. 

St. Louis has obtained the reputation of being a dan- 
gerous climate for infants, and the bills of mortality, as 
they have from time to time exhibited an alarming num- 
ber of deaths among children, have called forth learned 
disquisitions from the medicine men,” and some new 
views from those who are without the pale of regular 
practice. All seemed to agree that the mortality every 
summer was alarming, but no two united in assigning 
the same cause for the fatal result. After listening pa- 
tiently to both sides, I sought information from the suf- 
fering party, and their opinion may be gathered from 
the complaints of their correspondent Bub. He says : 

Dear Sir : — Of late I perceive the public are making 
some stir about us babies ; may heaven veuchsafe 
healthy children to our defenders. I have a string of 
sorrows to relate myself, and my poor bowels cry out 
for protection ; you must therefore permit me to say a 
few words. My Ma is what you would call a fashion- 
able woman, and although she loves her baby, yet she 
says it is not fashionable for mammas in the southern 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


169 


states to nurse their own babies ; I am, consequently, 
turned over to the care of nigger Molly, and Lord pre- 
serve me, such nursing as I get would kill a young /n- 
dian. I am fed with every thing, from a green apple 
to a chunk of fat pickled pork, and the sufferings which 
I undergo therefrom, would crack a sucking bottle, or 
rend a diaper in tatters. After feeding me into sickness, 
they set a doctor at me, who physics me into a state of 
quiet insensibility, and they then say, ‘‘bess its ittle 
bessed heart it’s ditten better, it is.” I get a little peace 
until I get strong enough to cry out, and then nigger 
Molly stuffs me to keep me quiet, and I go through 
another spell. I see our dog Flora watching her pups, 
and if any person goes near them she is almost ready to 
tear them to pieces ; I wish my Ma was as careful of 
me. I see a poor woman opposite kissing her baby, 
and I envy that child ; nobody kisses me but black 
Molly, and she does it to smother my cries of suffering. 
I don’t know what kills other babies, but this treatment 
will soon finish me Bub. 


NO. II. BUB IN PERIL. 

How are you ^ — -You have published my letter, and I 
am glad to see that nigger Molly cannot smother my cry 
to the public — if I don’t give her scissors, it will be be- 
cause she smothers me outright. You must know Molly 
keeps two bottles filled with liquid, one of which she 
administers to me, and the other to herself, and they 
both have about the same effect, only hers smells worst. 
Hers she calls whisicey, mine cordial. The other morn- 
ing Mollv set me down on the floor, beside a pan of 


170 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


water, and commenced taking comfort from her bottle, 
and I, feeling feverish, commenced comforting myself 
by dabbling in the pan until I was all wet ; Molly per- 
ceiving this picked me up to slap me, but her cordial 
floored her. I should have been glad of this, only she 
nearly killed me in her fall, and because I screamed, a^ 
any baby would do, she clapped her black lips to mine, 
smelling horribly as they were of whiskey, and kept in 
my breath until I was as black in the face as herself. I 
yelled at this double outrage, and she silenced me by 
pouring a double dose of cordial down my throat, which 
threw me into a state of insensibility, from which I awoke 
almost dead. My mother asked to see me, and when 
she heard me moaning, she said “ the ittle bessed dear 
is suffering wis its too-sys.” I aint suffering with my 
teeth — I’m suffering with nigger Moll’s nursing. 

Bub. 


NO. III. BUB RESCUED. 

Helloy boys : — Flourish trumpets! merrily beat your 
drums — I’m a saved sucker ! A day of hope and pro- 
mise has shed its light upon my infantile head, and 
bright visions of a pair of small breeches to be worn 
by me, float airily round my head — they appear plain 
and palpable in the vista of the future — buttons, pockets, 
suspenders and all — vive la pantalons ! The other morn- 
ing my Pa drew forth the copies of the Reveille from 
his book case, and commenced reading them for Ma’s 
amusement. Suddenly he cast his eye on my letters, 
and straight he commenced them — he laughed, and 
then Ma laughed, and then I crowed. By and by, as 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


171 


he proceeded, Ma began to look angry ; she cast a 
glance at me, and then her conscience smote her — I 
was wasted to a shadow — on went Pa with the letters ; 
Ma wept, I crowed, and nigger Molly gave me a pinch 
— a yell followed and the clouds burst ! 

“ Give me that child, you hateful jade, you ; how dare 
you hurt it cried Ma. 

“Please God, I didn’t do nuffin ob de sort, missus; 
I’d do any thin else, missus, dan hurt de baby,” an- 
swered Moll. 

“ Get out of my sight, you hussy !” cried my enraged 
mamma ; “ you have nearly killed de bessed ittle pet — 
mamma’s dear, bess its heart — get out of my sight ; if 
ever you touch it again. I’ll punish you severely.” 

Molly fled. Pa chuckled to himself, and I crowed 
again — I tried to hurrah! How shall I describe the 
change which stole over me, body and spirit, as, nest- 
ling in my mother’s sweet bosom and receiving her fond 
caress, I was permitted abundantly to drink at “ Nature’s 
pure fount, -which, at my cry, sent forth a pearly stream 
to cherish my enamelled veins.” A sweet sleep visited 
my pillow again, and the fond endearments which waited 
on my waking moments were life and joy to me. My 
Ma, now, is rapidly improving in health — I, of course, 
will grow" fat ; and just wait until I’m able to wear them 
breeches and beat a small dnim^ if I don’t visit the 
Reveille office and give you the serenade of “ Oh, be 
joyful,” until your petrified stump will execute a double 
shuffle, then say my name aint Bub. 


172 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


NO. IV. BUB FLOURISHING. 

Hello y Drummers : — Whoop ! hey ! cock-a-doodle- 
doo-o-o ! If I aint some by this time I wouldn’t say 
so ! You remember what a sickly state I was in whe,n 
I commenced telling you my grievances.'* — how my 
complaints wrought improvement and rescued me from 
nigger Molly ? Well, ever since then, it’s a surprise to 
learn the way my body has spread — I’m a small Lam- 
bert, and have got six teeth. Aint I some } Talk of 
your Missouriums! — only look at me! Well, between 
you and me, I didn’t cut them teeth for nothing; I find 
a fellow don’t get knowledge without paying for it ; I 
suffered in teething, but I learned some. Women who 
pay no attention to their babies, envy me my fat — I’m 
a kind of living rebuke to them, and, for a year old, I’m 
rather a heavy rebuke. They every now and then say : 

Why, bless me, Mrs. T , you’ll kill yourself nurs- 

ing that big fat child.” The answer they get, gene- 
rally, is, «« Well, it will get killed if I donH That’s 
the way to tell it! — bravo, Ma ! “Well, but, Mrs. 

T , why don’t you let Molly relieve you of such a 

load Ma answers, “ It’s because Molly nearly re- 
lieved me of him altogether — he would have died from 
her nursing.” That’s a fact ! — hit ’em again, Ma. “ My 
children,” says Mrs. Nevernurse, “ get along very well 
without me.” “ Yes,” answered Ma, again, “ you have 
only two living out of m:.” That was a wiper! — how 
she twisted her face at it! I think I’m safe enough, 
but my peace is sadiy troubled with fear when I hear 
some of these old women giving Ma advice. It would 
do you good to see old Molly look at me, now and then, 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


173 


saying, with her big eyes, “ Well, bress de Lord, I’m 
clar ob dat brat, but I should jis like to hab him for a 
a week, I’d take de sassy look out ob his face.” I’d 
like to try my six new teeth on her black hide. 

You shall have that serenade. Drummers, and no 
mistake. Bub. 


NO. V. BUB AGAIN IN DANGER. 

Gents: — How (Tye do? I’ve just had a good long 
pull at the titty, and have got on a clean warm diaper ; 
and feeling pretty comfortable, I think I’ll give you an- 
other small epistle. I’m going to get into trouble — I 
feel it in my bones. My Ma has quarreled with her old 
physician, and has employed a new one, young Dr. 
Pliant — between you and me, I think they should have 
named him Verdant. This new doctor wants to please, 
so anything the women propose is exactly right. “ Don’t 

you think, Doctor,” says one, ‘‘ that Mrs. T will 

destroy her health, nursing that fat child?” “Cer- 
tainly, maam, most unquestionably, Mrs. Helpalong ; 
the strength of the mother being inadequate to the 
sufficient indevelopment of the ponderous system of 
nieat-gather-upon-its-bones-ativeness of the infant, it 
consequently follows that the thin-down-to-a-light-alti- 
tudity of the fill-up-and-get-strong-ative powers of the 
mother naturally must result.” “ I thought so, Doc- 
tor,” says Mrs. Helpalong, and this clear- as-mud evi- 
dence against my comfort is reiterated to my mother. 
“Do you really think. Dr. P., that I am endangering 
my health ?” “ That aepends upon how you feel,” 

says the doctor. “ Why,” says Ma, “ I feel as well as 


J74 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


ever I did in my life.” Your system, then,” says the 
doctor, « is what we call in the south sui genens — that 
is, you can stand nursing, and, consequently, the babe 
having a tendency to the natural milk which surrepti- 
tiously flows, I might say, from the secretive portion of 
the female os frontis of the breast, it must follow, as a 
result from these multifarious and indigenous effects, 
that no danger can ensue from your nursing.” Pm safe 
as long as my mother keeps in good health ; but Lord 
bless me, should she get ill. Pm a gone sucker — this 
new physician would dose her and me into kingdom 
come in about a week. I heard quite a discussion about 
his merits yesterday. Mrs. Enquiry says that he used 
to be a fiddler about two years ago, but Mrs. Helpalong 
says it is no such thing — that he always was a gentle- 
man, and taught school before he took up the profession 
— that he studied regularly a whole season, and took his 
diploma in the spring; — she sticks to that, Mrs. Help- 
along does, and I guess she is about right. Aint my 
case critical } Bub. 


NO. VI. — bub’s reception of a silver pap spoon. 

Pm here again : — Important events having transpired 
since I last WTote to you, it has been deemed proper to 
send a synopsis of them to you for publication, in order 
that the world in general may know western babies are 
somCy and when well nursed a good deal more than 
some. A most gratifying reformation has been effected 
in certain circles by my letters, and, indeed, wherever 
they have been read, nigger nurses, paregoric, sucking- 
bottles, coarse diapers, and sundry other abuses have 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


175 


entirely disappeared. The effect has been a correspond- 
ing improvement in babies, generally, and your corres- 
pondent in particular, who is now admitted to be a 
whapping child for a small family. 

On last Christmas, a number of our parents having 
met together to celebrate the day, all of us youngsters 
were put into the nursery together, and the clatter of 
discussion which followed would have thrown a peevish 
nurse into hysterics. Charley Wilgus proposed that a 
meeting should be held upon the spot, and a silver pap 
spoon voted to me for my able letters in defence of in- 
fantile rights. Asa Keemle seconded the motion, and 
it was unanimously carried. Charley Wilgus was there- 
upon chosen chairman, and Asa Keemle, secretary. The 
president mounted a pillow, and called the meeting to 
order by ringing the bells on his coral. On motion, a 
committee was then appointed to draft resolutions ex- 
pressive of the sense of the meeting, and the following 
boys, having cut their eye-teeth, were selected to draft 
said resolutions : 

Augustus Vinton, Edward Shade, John Charless, 
Christopher Wigery, John Dalrymple and Wallace Fin- 
ney. 

The committee having retired, Colton A. Presbury, 
Jr., offered the following resolution, which he prefaced 
by some very pertinent remarks : 

Resolved^ That cutting teeth is a sharp operation, and 
should therefore, be deferred until maturity. 

Presbury G. A. Colton, a little fellow who had just 
cut his first “ double,” opposed this resolution, on the 
ground of its interfering with future prospects,” — he 
went in for teeth now, and the cutting to come being 
left an open question. The resolution was rejected. 


176 


LETTERS FROM A BABY. 


Rucker Smith now rose to address the meeting, when 
some objection was made to him because he sucked 
milk from a bottle ; it was, however, concluded that he 
might address the chair if his diaper was pinned tight ; 
on examination he was permitted to proceed. He com- 
menced describing the horrors of a cold bath, and was 
interrupted by the president, who informed him that the 
subject of water came more particularly under the head 
of streams, and could not then be entertained by the 
meeting. He then proceeded to describe the delights 
of a sucking-hottle, and was cried down by the unani- 
mous voice of the meeting. Some one now commenced 
a speech against paregoric, whereupon the assembly, 
speaker and all, went immediately to sleep ! 

They were aroused from their slumber by the return 
of the committee, which, through their chairman, Au- 
gustus Vinton, reported the following resolutions : 

Resolved, That babies are, and of right ought to be, 
natural-born suckers. 

Resolved, That the introduction of negro nurses 
among white babies was a dark era in infantile histoiy". 

Resolved, That all artificial efforts, in regard to babies, 
are no go, and that the old fashion defies the ingenuity 
of Yankeedom to improve on it. 

Resolved, That being born with a silver spoon in 
your mouth” is a good thing, but an unlimited chance 
at the titty is a better. 

Resolved, That all anti-nursing mothers are undeserv- 
ing of lively husbands. 

Resolved, That we look with feelings of compassion 
upon those who have adopted children. 

Resolved, That Bub deserves a s^llver pap spoon, and 
shall have one. 


SETH tinder's FIRST COURTSHIP. 


177 


These resolutions having been unanimously adopted 
by the meeting, it was — 

On motion of 0. M. Ridgely, seconded by Edward 
Shade, adjourned. A general call was now made for 
refreshments, which anxious mothers promptly supplied 

Yours, Bub. 


SETH TINDER’S FIRST COURTSHIP 

HOW HIS FLAME WAS QUENCHEd! 

You knew Seth Tinder, — No? — << git eout!” — you 
did know Seth, every body knew him, and they couldn’t 
help it, for Seth would know every body. He was, 
])erhaps, the “ cutest critter,” in some things, that eve>r 
calculated the success of a notion expedition, and he 
was among the first of his genus that ever strayed, or, 
such an expedition, as far w^est as St. Louis. If you 
really didn’t know' Seth, it is time your ignorance was 
enlightened. 

Seth was remarkably cute at driving a bargain — that 
was an innate propensity; Seth was inquisitive, and 
frequently looked into hall doors, and peeped into 
kitchen windows — that was Yankee human nature ; 
Seth wdnked at the girls — that was an acquired habit ; 
he resolved to possess one — that was a calculation. 
Now, this winking at the girls, when performed by a 
handsome individual, is looked upon as a matter of 
course ; but Seth was so notoriously ugly, that his wink 
was an outrage, and his overtures of love, perfect 
atrocities. His short, bow-legged figure w’as ‘hatched 
23 


178 SETH tinder’s first courtship. 

with the most obstinate bunch of carroty hair that ever 
bid defiance to bear’s oil, and the windows of his mind 
as the eyes are poetically styled, appeared looking in* 
tently at the tip of his nose, as if apprehensive that, ere 
long, it would burst into a blaze. A kind of half-burnt- 
prairie garnished his chin, which would have made a 
very warm looking goatee, if Seth could have trans- 
planted it all to one spot ; but there lay the difficulty, 
for though cute at driving a bargain, he could make 
none with nature — she made him ugly without his con- 
sent, and wouldn’t agree to any alteration. Seth, never- 
theless, would wink at the girls. 

His first tender effort was made upon the heart of a 
German butcher’s fair, fat, rosy daughter, whose round 
cheeks and well-fed form was, 4;o his eye, the very per- 
fection of female beauty. No artificial making up about 
her — no exterior padding, it was all done naturally, on 
the inside. As she luxuriated upon the door steps of 
an evening, Seth would linger near, wink, and grin all 
sorts of affection, but, like all bashful swains, hesitated 
about coming to close quarters. He had imbibed the 
erroneous opinion, that all true courting must be done 
clandestinely ; but all his hints to draw his inamorata 
into a secret treaty, was a failure. At length, he ven- 
tured in a desperate manner up to the door step, and 
whispered hurriedly : — 

‘‘ Look out — cornin’ to set up with you to-night — 
round the back way — over the fence — be a- waitin’ !” 

“ You’d petter pe ketch’d,” was the fair one’s re- 
joinder, accompanied by a malicious laugh, which Seth 
interpreted as an approving one. 

The darkness of the night favored Seth’s clandestine 
opinions and practice- -it was just the thing for a noc- 



“Tliey found their trusty sentry l»alking all Seth’s efforts to retreat over the 
fence, and keeping him ‘a waitin’ !” — Page]79. 



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SETH tinder’s FIRST COURTSHIP. 179 

turnal visit ; therefore, agreeable to notice, he made his 
appearance at the fence, round the back way. Leaning 
over the barrier, he ventured to sound a cautious “ hist,” 
which was immediately answered by a low “ wou-ugh.” 
That must be Dutch for “ come,” reasoned Seth, and 
straight he mounted the fence; b,ut politician never 
took an uneasier seat on the same line of division than 
he enjoyed on the present occasion, for, no sooner had 
one pedal extremity reached the other side and placed 
him fairly astride, than a remarkably savage dog seized 
the intruding member, with a fierce vvou-ugh-ugh- 
ugh-u.” 

“Git eout, you blasted critter!” shouted Seth. 

“ Wou-ugh-ugh !” roared the dog. 

A struggle ensued, in which Seth, unfortunately, fell 
on the wrong side, right into the jaws of his antagonist. 
The attitude in which he reached terra firma, offered 
the dog a change of grip, and, like a skilful sentinel, 
he seized the advantage and Seth’s seat of honor at the 
same time. Our hero sprang nearly erect, with a howl 
more like his antagonist than any human noise, and a 
desperate struggle, mingled with strange cries, aroused 
fhe dozing butcher from his pipe, and the fair cause of 
the disturbance from her knitting. 

“ Sum tarn rascal’s after der sausages in der smoke 
haus !” was the butcher’s first exclamation ; the rosy 
daughter smiled assent, and “ arm and out,” was the 
work of an instant. They found their trusty sentry 
baulking all Seth’s efforts to retreat over the fence, and 
keeping him “ ” when he would hrve given 

worlds to leave. The reinforcement made at him v/ith 
whip and broomstick, and this terrible ode 3 a'’r»i''5ed 
him to superhuman exertions; — with a “ ip 


180 


THE DEATH STRUGGLE. 


floored the Dutchman and his pipe, charged on the 
flinty-hearted daughter, captured her broomstick, beat 
a parley with it on the dog’s head, and retreated over 
the fence with “ flying colors ” — sticldng through a rent 
of his inexpressibles. 


THE DEATH STRUGGLE; 

OR, THE WAY SMITH DID UP JONES. 

You all knew Smith — every body knew Smith, and 
Smith was known by every body — consequently. Smith 
was considered somebody. A body is supposed to 
contain a soul ; Smith’s body not only contained a soul, 
but certain parts of Smith’s body made and mended 
other men’s soles. Smith was enterprising, industrious, 
and won thereby the sole control of the boot and shoe 
business of the flourishing town of Kipp. Smith was a 
thriving man, a persevering man ; Smith was, in fact, a 
strip of upper-leather. Just about the time of his greatest 
success, when the tide of fortune appeared to bear upon 
its surface a perfect skin of Smith’s manufactured high- 
lows, and earth shook beneath the tread of his patent 
cork soles, along came Jones. Strange freak of fate ! 
Jones was an adventurer, — a desperate adventurer, — a 
fellow who had made soles his study and upper leather 
his dream ; he was a Napoleon in his business, and 
could slash calf-skin into a killing shape for pedal ex- 
tremities ; — in short, he was boot No. 1, both in the 
manufacture and sale of the article. In Jones’ wander- 
ings along the streets of Kipp, his eye fell upon the broad 


THE DEATH STRUGGLE. 


181 


sign of “ Smithy Fashionable Boot and Shoe Maker. 
There was something prosperous and aristocratic about 
it, but, at the ‘‘ Fashionable,’’ Jones turned up his nose. 

“ Ox-hide fashion,” says Jones, “Good common ar- 
ticle, but won’t sell alongside of a prime one. I’ll drive 
that fellow. Smith, out of Kipp town — have it all to 
myself — do a smashing business — re-sole the town — be- 
come upper-leather in the community — president of 
town council — die mayor of the borough, and have all 
my own manufactured shoes walking at my funeral. — 
Lofty thought,” added Jones. 

In a very short time, upon the principal street in Kipp, 
in sight of Smith’s, out swung a large flag, with the 
name of “Jones, importer, manufacturer, and patent 
leather boot and shoe artiste.'^'* Smith stared, the flag 
fluttered, and Jones chuckled. Customers began to pa- 
tronise Jones, and the flag seemed saucily to triumph, as 
it floated upon the breeze blowing towards Smith’s door. 
Smith \yas a man of energy, though, and out came his 
new “ patent gaiter boot the tide turned and Smith 
was again in the ascendant. Now began a leather war 
— Jones up and Smith down. Smith up again and Jones 
down, as each rival, alternately, brought out something 
new. At length, one bright morning, the inhabitants of 
Kipp, who had taken sides in the contest, were astound- 
ed by the appearance of the front of Smith’s store — it 
was one entire sign, from the pavement to the roof. 
Jones looked blue, the flag fluttered like a tattered rag. 
Smith rose in importance — his friends felt proud of him 
— it was a Kipp triumph over foreign capital — the Jones 
party wavered ! — not so Jones; his great mind had con- 
ceived a stupendous overthrow for Smith, and ere ad- 
miration for his rival had settled into sure success, it 


182 


THE DEATH STRUGGLE. 


was diverted to himself. An immense flag, of stone^ 
with his name in large letters, was scientifically planted 
right in the centre of Jones’ pavement. 

The town now became feverish with excitement, and 
it was rumored that the town council intended to con- 
sider the matter — the “ signs of the times” grew alarming. 

Glorious Smith ! — Smith for ever ! — unyielding to the 
last! In this emergency, when the horizon seemed 
heavy with defeat, when a vast stone seemed to press 
his fortunes into the earth. Smith arose, Phoenix like, 
<< from a boot,” and gave assurance to the world that 
he was no common leather. Rapid as the thought 
which conceived the idea, he had a vast boot con- 
structed, placed upon a post in front of his door, and 
with a sample of his manufacture in each hand, he 
mounted into it, to exhibit to the passers by not only a 
spectacle of indomitable energy, but un;^«g-ging per- 
severance. 

. “ What do you think of Smith now ?” said the adhe- 

rents of the «« big boot,” — bravo, Smith !” shouted the 
Kippites. Here was a climax to which ingenuity could 
discover no parallel, it was indeed the m plus ultra, 

Jones put his hands behind his coat-tails, and looked 
up street at the big boot and its tenant, then at the stone 
flag beneath his feet, and his countenance settled into a 
calm and desperate determination. I’ll do it !” ex- 
claimed he. The expression was caught up by his 
friends, wafted through the town, and whispered in 
each dwelling, until the excitement and expectation 
grew painful. Everybody was aching to see what Jones 
would do. 

Jones cut out a capacious pair of boots, set his work- 
men at them, had them finished, sent every living soul 


WHO ARE THEY? 


183 


away from his shop at early candle-light, closed it up, 
and all remained a mystery for the remainder of the 
night. Morning broke — astonishment and horror! — 
terrible Jones ! — triumphing in death! He had drawn 
on the immense boots, fastened them by suspenders^ 
across his shoulders, and then suspended himself from 
the flag-staff right over the flagstone. Beneath him 
fluttered a postscript attached to the boots ; its substance 
•was, Has Smith the sole to imitate this ?” Smith 
hadnH. 


“WHO ARE THEY?” 

A QUESTION OF VITAL IMPORT. 

How often, in our democratic land, the query which 
forms our caption has caused the aspirants after aristo- 
cratic distinction to shudder, and how silent become 
their voices of high pretension, when, by some unfortu- 
nate remark, or the recalling of some reminiscence, 
they have been forced to take a retrospective glance 
into the past for a few generations. Happy are they if 
memory does not wake up a sturdy ancestor pound- 
ing the leather upon his lapstone, or that necessary 
craftsman, the tailor, plying his busy needle upon the 
shop-board. The morbid desire of us republicans to 
be ignorant of the vulgar callings of life, is often very 
amusing; and the struggles to rake up a pedigree, to 
give character to growing prosperity, has often caused 
more trouble and vexation than the building up of a 
fortune, which it was necessary thus to adorn. 


184 


WHO ARE THEY ? 


‘‘ Who are they?’’ was the general query at a soiree 
given by a high United States’ officer, at the city of 
Washington, a short period previous to the death of the 
lamented General Harrison. The parties who called 
forth the query were a western member of congress and 
• his highly gifted lady. The member was in the prime 
of life, of acknowledged talents in his profession, and 
betrayed, in his manners, the high breeding of a gentle- 
man. A conscious power lent ease to his frankness, 
and the men of the west clustered around him with 
pride. His lady, simply attired, attracted all eyes ; her 
distingue figure and intellectual face proclaimed her a 
peerless woman, and when she smiled a ray of heaven’s 
own light beamed forth from human eyes. There was 
a kindness in her smile which won hearts before they 
knew her ; there was no hollow mockery in it ; it came 
forth from a happy heart, and where its influence fell, 
good feelings sprung up and sweet thoughts clustered; 
but — Who is she ? Ah, that’s the question ; and how 
often the inquiry was passed from lip to lip during that 
evening! Amid the throng in which they moved, and 
wherever they lingered, an admiring coterie surrounded 
them. The husband was a strong man in the political 
world ; had accepted a seat in congress more to gratify 
his friends than in accordance with his own wishes, and 
his party felt strengthened by his presence. His lady, 
ever distinguished at home, was now creating no small 
sensation at Washington ; but — who are they?” That 
all-absorbing question remained unanswered, even to 
the close of the evening, and they departed, leaving it 
still an “ open question.” 

Judge W. had been seen conversing very familiarly 
with them, and an anxious company soon surrounded 


WHO ARE THEY ? 


185 


him, uttering the query, ‘‘ Who are they ?” He informed 
them, that it was Mr. H. and his wife, Mrs. H., of 

M . “ Oh ! they all knew that, but what was their 

family 

“ Upon my life, ladies,” answered the good-natured 
Judge, “I don’t know; but if you will only wait until 
to-morrow evening, I will endeavor to find out.” 

The task of postponing curiosity, though difficult, 
was, nevertheless, unavoidable; and the party broke up 
with a living hope, that ere another day had ended, the 
important query would be solved. 

“Who are you? H.,” said the Judge to his friend 
the next day, as they sat conversing together in H.’s 
parlor. 

“ Well, that is a hard question. Judge,” replied H. — 
“ but perhaps Mary can answer that question better than 
I can ;” and calling his wife away from a boquet of 
flowers which she was arranging in a vase ; he took her 
hand in his, as she leaned aflectionately over his shoulder, 
and repeated the inquiry — Who am I, Mary? — the Judge 
wishes to know.” 

“ I think I can inform you. Judge,” replied the wife, 
“ for he is not a whit changed since the day he taught 
me my first lesson in the ‘ free school’ of L. He is 
Henry H. — formerly assistant teacher in a down-east 
free school^ and now, the Hon. Henry H., of M. ; more- 
over, the husband of Mary H., formerly ^factory girl in 
that same towm, but now, I need not tell you. Judge, 
the Hon. Mrs. H., also of M. ; I have really become 
quite enamored of this title.” 

“It is true. Judge,” continued Mr. H., “I first be- 
held Mary at a free school^ taught her her first lesson^ 
learned another from her eyes, and never became satis- 


186 


WHO ARE THEY ? 


fied until I possessed the book, that throughout life I 
might continue to peruse the beauties of the page. But 
come, Judge, — now that you have traced our pedigree, 
give some account of yourself; from what ancient stock 
have you sprung ? — Who are you 

<< I am the son of Adam!” (a laugh here inter- 
rupted him,) “ not the Adam spoken of in the Bible ; 1 
mean old Adam W., a shoemaker of Albany, who once 
used his stirrup rather lavishly upon me, and for which 
good office, I left him one fine morning, without bid- 
ding good by. I will not relate to you the many 
changes of fortune which befel me, until I found myself 
upon the bench, in a United States’ court, instead of the 
bench in my father’s shop. Suffice it to say, that my 
good parent, until his dying day, expressed the opinion 
that it was a good thing I- took to the law early, for I 
was fit for no useful purposed 
At Secretary E.’s on the next evening, a crowd sur- 
rounded the Judge, but all wore upon their countenances 
an air of incredulity — the Judge’s story of the factory 
girl” wouldn’t go down.” 

«<It’s a fact, ladies,” said the Judge; “just about 
the time I was learning to make shoes these people were 
m the situations I tell you.” 

They all pronounced the Judge a wag, and would 
not believe the story. A matron, more resolved than 
her friends to sift the truth of the matter, applied to Mrs. 
H., herself, and told her what a fib the Judge had been 
telling them. 

“ I assure you it is true,” replied Mrs. H. 

“Yes, but my dear, the best of families have been 
reduced,” says Mrs. Enquiry, “ you are, no doubt, 
descended from the « Pilgrim Fathers.’ ” 


WHO ARE THEY ? 


187 


I have every reason to believe so,” answered Mrs. H. 
“ I told you so,” said Mrs. Enquiry, exultingly, to 
her circle of acquaintances ; she is a daughter of one 
of the « Pilgrim Fathers.’ ” 

The wheels of government, w^hich had w’ell nigh 
ceased to move during the pendency of this important 
question, received a new impetus from the intelligence, 
and the republic w'as pronounced out of danger,” 
for its “ heads of wisest censure” had discovered who 
they were ! — 


THE END. 


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